


I'd rather be with you

by Kiros18



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Armies parents are nice!, Boys Kissing, Description of Anxiety Attacks, Eventual Happy Ending, First Date, First Fight, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mention of Death, Soldier!Armie, Timmy is a nervous mess, this is going to be a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiros18/pseuds/Kiros18
Summary: When Timmy meets Armie, everything falls into place.When Armie leaves Timmy to go to war less than a month later, everything threatens to fall apart.Or, Armie is in the army and Timmy can't wait to hold his boyfriend in his arms again.
Relationships: Nick Delli Santi/Saoirse Ronan, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 66
Kudos: 140





	1. A guiding light that shines in the night

Timmy doesn’t even like mango. The taste is too sharp and spicy. He kind of suspects the problem being that he expects the fruit to taste differently, sweeter maybe. He always ends up slightly disappointed when he throws the fruit out after two bites, scolding himself for yet again purchasing something that he inevitably ends up losing interest in, just to throw it away.

So it’s really only his incapability to learn from his own mistakes that’s to blame when he stands at his local supermarket, reaching for the exotic fruit. When out of nowhere a hand that doesn’t belong to Timmy reaches for the fruit at the same time as him, accidentally brushing against Timmy’s hand before it drops the fruit back in the basket. And maybe it’s just the universe that tries to tell him something (possibly that he should stop buying things he doesn’t ‘t like). It really kind of feels like the breath gets knocked out of his lungs when he looks up into the face of the stranger. The very, _very_ handsome stranger that is currently towering over Timmy with an apologizing smile. God, the universe really must have something to do with this, because Timmy has never seen such blue eyes before. Then the stranger opens his mouth and says something that Timmy doesn’t quite catch, because Jesus, who even has a voice like that? Timmy’s almost convinced that he could feel the deep waves of the strangers words go straight to the very core of his spine, when the man gives him a bemused look, and finally, he snaps out of his stupor, closes his gaping mouth and says “sorry, what? “. “I said that you can take the mango, I think you had your eyes on it first “, and Timmy really can’t think of anything better to say than “I don’t even like mango “.

The guy shoots Timmy a puzzled look. “Well, alright. I guess“, and it kind of sounds like a question, so Timmy babbles on, “you can just, it’s alright really, I’ll just… sorry“ and then he scurries off down the aisle, not even knowing where his going. He ends up going straight for the shelves with sanitary towels and tampons, trying to look like yeah, he’s totally out of sanitary towels while he feels his whole face set on fire. And then, as if Timmy hadn’t already acted like a blushing teenage girl, he looks back down at the fruit section where the stranger looks up simultaneously, making eye contact with Timmy, and God, what is going on with him? Timmy really needs to get out of here before he ends up tripping over his own two feet or knocks something over.

Standing behind at the aisle, Armie looks down at the fruit in his hand, and back up at the man with curly brown hair and long limps, still a little thrown off kilter by the stranger. He doesn’t even know why. Maybe it’s because he just accidentally touched the hand of a stranger, which is always slightly awkward, and yeah, Armie can still feel the place on his thumb where the other man had touched him. Maybe it’s because the owner of the hand was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. And who the hell buys a fruit they don’t even like? No matter the reason, Armie feels completely intrigued by the blushing bundle of nervous energy. As he’s heading home, he finds himself looking over his shoulder more often than necessary, paying extra attention when he spots a head of wild dark hair.

Back at his apartment, Timmy takes a deep breath, shaking his head again while cursing under his breath and looking at what is only half of the groceries he needs, plus the sanitary towels that he defiantly doesn’t need. Guess he’ll have to go back to the store to get the rest later. Hopefully he won’t run into the stranger again, and what the fuck just happened?

The next day, Timmy is sitting at the coffee shop two blocks from his apartment, starring out of the window. Uneaten pumpkin spiced muffin sitting abandoned in front of him. He really should’ve just gone with the usual blueberry flavor, because god damnit, Timmy doesn’t like the pumpkin spiced flavor, but he likes the thought of liking it. It’s really just stupid, but he guesses that’s just the way it goes with him. He gets spontaneous, tries something new but ends up losing interest before he’s halfway through it. Looking at the plethora of people walking the streets of New York, Timmy can’t figure out if he’s content sticking to things that he knows are safe, or if he really would be happier being a little more spontaneous sometimes. But who is he really kidding? Every time he tries something new, he ends up abandoning it faster than he got the idea to try it in the first place. Still, he can’t help but wish that he was a little braver, a little quirkier. Maybe he wouldn’t be sitting alone, observing all of those people from afar. Maybe he would be one of them. Maybe he would’ve said something slightly more intelligent to the guy at the store yesterday. Who knows, maybe he would’ve said something flirty, winked, gotten _all_ of his groceries in the first place and walked away with a little dignity. Maybe he would even like the taste of the damned pumpkin spiced muffin.

As could only be expected, all thoughts of manning up and owning his own space goes right down the drain when a bell chimes and the door to the café opens, entering none other than the stranger from the store. At once, Timmy feels a bolt of electricity going straight through his body, making his heart stutter, throwing him slightly off balance. Panic strikes him as he scoots down in his seat, trying and failing to bury himself behind his phone. Trying to get his sudden nervousness to calm down, he takes a deep breath before looking back up at the place where the stranger had stood only a minute ago, only to find that he isn’t standing there anymore. With a quick scout of the small coffee shop, Timmy finds the man standing at the front of the cashier, giving his order, shooting a rather dazzling smile at the girl on the other side of the counter. Looking back out at the street, Timmy scolds himself for freaking out over such a ridiculous thing. What did he even expect? For the stranger to recognize him? And even so, for the guy to actually give him any attention? As if that wasn’t ridiculous enough, Timmy knows gay when he sees it, and this man doesn’t exactly look it.

Looking down into his phone while entering the coffee shop, Armie checks the time again before locking his phone and pocketing the device. Looking up, he sees him immediately, sitting alone at a table by the window, buried in his phone. Armie feels a thrill go through his body, a smile spreading across his face. Walking to the counter, Armie wonders how it’s possible to run in to the same stranger twice in two days in a city this big. But then again, maybe he’d always been there, Armie just hadn’t noticed him before. Before he can stop the thought from entering his mind, Armie thinks to himself that maybe he is supposed to keep running into this guy. Ha. Shaking his head, Armie can’t believe how utterly ridiculously cliché that sounded. Armie doesn’t really do the whole faith and universe thing. Nevertheless, he finds himself grabbing his coffee in the to go cup, before walking towards the table currently occupied by the guy who proceeded to shake his ground just yesterday. It’s not like he doesn’t know how stupid this must sound like when he clears his throat, making the beautiful man look up at him with those moss green eyes, asking if the seat in front of the guy is taken. It’s stupid, because aside from himself and the guy at the table, there’s only two other customers occupying the half empty coffee shop, and it gets even more stupid when he remembers that he’s holding a coffee to go. Nonetheless, the stranger scrambles to straighten up in his seat, placing his phone down at the table while stuttering “n-no, have seat “.

And only then does it hit Armie that maybe the guy doesn’t even recognize him. And even if he does, he must be confused as to why the guy who stole his mango yesterday (the mango he didn’t want either way but still), is sitting in front of him right now.

“Are you waiting for anyone? Sorry, I’m Armie “, he says as he plumps down in the chair, stretching out his hand in front of him. Armie? What kind of name is that? As if the guy didn’t already stand out with his height and dazzling smile, Timmy thinks to himself. Of course, he has a name that he has literally never heard before. Timmy catches himself staring at a huge palm with ridiculously long fingers just in time to return the gesture, shaking the hand while saying “Timothée, but you can call me Timmy “

“So, Timmy, you’re not expecting someone?” Armie asks again.

“No, no. I’m afraid it’s just me.” Timmy mumbles, wondering if that statement makes him seem just as lonely as he felt two seconds ago. “Well, in that case I guess I can count myself as a lucky guy today “. Timmy’s mouth twitches into a slight smile, blushing while wondering if Armie really is flirting with him or if he’s just imagining things. Timmy wouldn’t know, he’s isn’t one who gets flirted with a lot. “Timothée “, Armie says, mostly to himself, like he’s trying it out. “It’s got kind of a European cling to it, are you French? “.

“My dad is. French, that is “, Timmy explains. Then, needing some clarity, “I’m sorry, but can I help you with something? “. _Well that came out the wrong way, well done Tim. Now you defiantly gave the guy, Armie, his name’s Armie, a reason to leave. Jesus, can’t you for once just make use of the little social skills you actually have?_

Biting his lip, bouncing his leg, Armie looks down at his hands clasped in front of him. “Well I don’t know if you remember me, you probably don’t and I’m just sitting here making a complete fool of myself“, he laughs nervously, twisting his fingers, “but we ran into each other yesterday, at the store“ Armie explains. He starts to move his arms around in big gestures, continuing, “and then I saw you sitting here, and I thought, yeah well, I don’t know what I thought“. Timmy looks at him, a wrinkle starting to form between his eyes, his mouth slightly open, “but I couldn’t help myself, I just had to at least get your name. Or something. Jeez“ Armie laughs incredulously at himself, “now that I’m listening to myself, I can hear what this must sound like to you, I’m so sorry“ Armie says, starting to get out of the chair while laughing and shaking his head at his own irrational actions.

Seeing Armie starting to get up, Timmy panics. Without thinking twice, he smacks his own slim hand down on top of Armies broad hairy one. Sparks start flying up his hand to his arm, ending somewhere deep inside his chest _,_ before he rushes out the words “No, please, stay. I mean – it’s not crazy, I don’t mind, actually, I was just thinking… never mind, just, please. Stay “. Timmy looks at Armie with big pleading eyes, and no, Timmy didn’t do that on purpose. The eye-thing, that is.

Armie lets out a sigh of relief, getting back down in the chair relishing in the feeling of Timmy’s soft, lithe hand on top of his own. Then Timmy remembers what he’s doing, quickly moving his hand away. For a moment they just look at each other, none of them knowing what to say, the atmosphere oddly enough lacking any kind of awkwardness.

Timmy eyes Armies coffee which the man still hasn’t even touched, noticing the to go paper cup. “Are you supposed to be somewhere? “

Armie looks down at the forgotten coffee which seems to have gotten Timmy’s attention, remembering the meeting he’s supposed to be at. “Yeah, well, I have this meeting in “, Armie throws a look at his watch “half an hour “.

“Oh “, and Timmy thinks he sounds slightly disappointed even to his own ears, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you “.

“No, it’s alright” Armie says quickly looking out the window, sipping his coffee while looking like he’s debating something for a second before turning back to Timmy. “Would you like to go out with me sometime maybe? “ he asks, looking hopefully at Timmy.

Feeling completely taken off guard, butterflies making his stomach feel like he’s going in loops on a roller-coaster, Timmy stammers “Uhm, yeah… yeah, that would be nice, I guess? ”, _God what is it with him and making words come out all wrong?_ Timmy mentally smacks himself.

Armie makes a sound in between a chuckle and relief, feeling eager excitement bubble in his chest at the prospect of seeing Timmy again. “What about tomorrow?“, then remembering “sorry that’s probably a little too short of a notice for you, I’m sure you have more important stuff to do-“ but he doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Timmy cuts him off, a little too eager if Timmy was to delve on it.

“Tomorrow sounds good”.

Smiling with his whole face, Armies says “yeah? Well, I should probably give you my number, or get yours or whatever, you know, setting up the date “. Pulling out his phone, unlocking it before sliding it across the table in front of Timmy.

“Yeah, sure, sure “, Timmy says while handing Armie his phone, saving his own number under _Timmy_ in Armies phone, hoping that Armie doesn’t know other people called Timmy.

Getting out of his chair, this time making it all the way out, Armie grabs his now lukewarm coffee.

Standing up as well, not really knowing where to go from there, Timmy shifts his weight from one foot to another, at last settling on just shaking Armies hand again, ‘

because that’s what they’d done just 30 minutes ago. Except that the other man clearly had chosen another route. Armie really doesn’t know why, but despite taking in the nervous vibes coming off of Timmy in waves, Armie decides that going for a hug apparently would be the best way to handle the situation. So he spreads his arms and bends down into a hug at the same time as Timmy presses out his hand towards Armie while scratching the back of his neck with the other hand, resulting in an awkward in between hug/handshake kind of situation, ending in Timmy blushing profusely and Armie letting out a nervous chuckle while pulling away. “Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow Timmy“, Armie says squeezing Timmy’s slim shoulder, sending him a cheeky wink, before turning on his heel, throwing one last look and a smile at Timmy who’s standing frozen to the spot. Opening the door, he walks down the street, speeding up just a little when he sees what time it is. Not like anything really matters right now, because Armie just got himself a date with Timmy, and he feels like flying.

Standing back, looking dumbstruck at Armies disappearing figure Timmy mumbles “yeah, see you “, before sinking back down in his seat, looking down at the uneaten pumpkin spiced muffin, asking himself what the hell just happened. _Again_.


	2. I think this story needs more pages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having caught up with Timmy, Armie collides their bodies, walking Timmy backwards until he’s caught between the wall and Armies chest. Placing his hands on either side of Timmy’s face, Armie looks down, soaking wet and out of breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know absolutely nothing about the way things work in the us army (or the military in general), so these things are mostly based on my own imagination. It should also be mentioned that neither the author nor Timmy means to disrespect the people sacrificing themselves out there, what you're about to read is purely for the sake of the story and 100% fiction. 
> 
> Now go ahead and enjoy the mess I've made <3

**Timmy:** _Does this jacket make me look like I’m fresh out of high school?_

**Pauline:** _It doesn’t_

**Pauline:** _wait_

**Pauline** _: are u going out?_

**Timmy:** _maybe_

Throwing his phone on the bed, Timmy looks at his reflection in the mirror one last time. Straightens his shirt, checks his teeth. He’s got a date with Armie, and he’s nervous. Because Armie is _hot_ and so much more masculine and cooler than Timmy. Not that his own masculinity has ever been something he’s felt insecure about. But who wouldn’t double-check themselves in the mirror before meeting up with a guy like Armie?

Taking a deep breath, Timmy closes his eyes and tells himself to calm down. Armie is a nice guy. Doesn’t seem like someone who’d give you a hard time just for the sake of it. He’d even been the one to initiate this thing himself.

Sitting down on the bed, Timmy pulls open the conversation from last night, trying to find some of that calmness he’d felt when texting Armie.

**Armie** : _hey :) You still up for going out tomorrow?_

**Armie** : _it’s Armie btw haha_

**Timmy** : _hey armie :) yeah of course_

**Armie:** _cool, thought that maybe we could meet up at the park?_

**Armie** : _unless u wanna do something else? We can totally do something else!_

**Timmy** : _the park sounds perfect :)_

_See._ Timmy thinks to himself. He wants to spend time with you. It’s going to be fine.

Standing at the corner of the street outside of the park, Timmy looks around, making sure that Armie isn’t here already, waiting as well. When he doesn’t see him, he pulls out his phone, looks at the text from his sister.

**Pauline:** _maybe? Who is it?_

Decisively not answering, Timmy aimlessly scrolls though his Instagram feed, not really able to focus on any of it. Looking up every two seconds, searching for brown hair and broad shoulder doesn’t exactly help the matter either. Feeling his phone buzz again, Timmy reads the message.

**Pauline** : _Tim? U can’t just go silent on me now_

Looking up again, Timmy finally spots him. Wearing blue denim jeans and a light grey sweater, Armie has Timmy convinced that he can probably look amazing in anything without even trying.

As soon as their eyes meet, Armies face breaks out into a breathtaking smile, making Timmy feel like he really doesn’t stand a chance.

“Timmy, hey,” Armie says, leaning into a hug. This time, Timmy is actually prepared and reciprocates, immediately, feeling the wall of muscle that is Armie against his chest, his hand patting his broad back twice. How the hell he landed himself a date with this man, he doesn’t know. “Hi,” Timmy breathes, taking a step back, but still feeling Armies hand lingering on his shoulder. Looking up into blue eyes that seems to catch all the sunshine around them at reflect it back at Timmy. Their color reminds Timmy of summers spend by the ocean in France, feeling carefree and happy. The lines around them falling perfectly in to place, revealing that Armie has smiled a lot. It makes his stomach fill with butterflies, a feeling of contentment falling over him at the knowledge that Armie is granting him the essence of happiness and joy in just that smile.

Squeezing his shoulder, Armie lets go of Timmy, pointing in the direction of the park. “You ready?”

Nodding with a smile on his face, Timmy puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking.

The weather at the park is nice, the sun warming Timmy’s face while he walks beside Armie. Armie, who, whenever Timmy looks up at him, shines almost as brightly as the sun.

“So, your dad is French, does that mean you grew up in Europe, or?”

Shaking his head, Timmy says, “no, me and my sister grew up here in New York, Hell’s Kitchen to be exact. We’ve spent a lot of holidays and vacations in France though.”

“Wow. So, how’s summer in France? As good as I imagine?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Timmy answers, “well, depends where in France. Paris is always going to be one of my favorite cities, but it gets incredibly crowded with tourist in the summer. If you’re asking for my advice, you should go to the countryside, that really is something special. Lots of fresh air and space.”

“Just as good then,” Armies smiles.

“I guess. You never been there yourself?”

“Nah, we spend most of our summers here. My dad’s a doctor, so he never had much time to go far away when we were kids.”

From there on, Armie explains how he and his brother used to drive their mother crazy with their antics, but always knowing that at the end of the day, they were loved more than anything by their parents. Tells Timmy about the time when he was about seven and rode to his grandparents’ place on his bicycle. They’d lived one mile down the road, but his mother hadn’t been able to find him when she’s looked for him, resulting in his father storming home from work, ready to move heaven and earth to find him, until Armies grandfather had made Armie call home. Laughing, Timmy sits down at a bench by the lake. It’s crazy, but he can almost picture seven-year-old Armie as if he’d been there himself. “What about you? Never ran away from home?” Armie nudges Timmy with his elbow.

Shaking his head, Timmy smiles. “I wasn’t really much of a wild child I think. Spend most of my time reading or listening to music. I think, to be honest, it worried my parents a little. They wanted me to go out more, find more friends. But I was honestly happier being in the company of my books.”

Looking up at Armie, Timmy blushes, wonders why he even said that. Now he just seems like a socially awkward loner.

He doesn’t know why, but Armie makes it so easy to just say these things though.

Armie still hasn’t said anything. Just looks at Timmy, a look of wonder on his face. Then, he chuckles, says, “I bet you were one of the smartest kids in school.”

Timmy shrugs again, a shy smile and a glint in his eyes that gives Armie all the confirmation that he needs.

Laughing, Armies asks his next question. “You still prefer your books over real people?” And Timmy knows that Armie isn’t making fun of him, can see it in the way his eyes have gone soft.

Letting out a chuckle, he leans back on the bench, says, “well, I study English literature at NYU, so I still read a lot. The real-people thing has gotten better, though.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Armie says, winking. “Why English lit. though? I mean, seems like you could choose to go in a lot of directions.”

“Aside from having lived my whole childhood through books?” Timmy laughs, making Armie shrug. Leaning back his head and looking up at the sky, he continues. “First of all I believe that in order to be a good and educated human being, you need to understand the world as much as possible. In order to do that, I think you have to look at reality through the eyes of other people. I mean, your reality will inevitably be different from mine, and so, we can only really understand reality if we observe as many realities as possible. And what better way to do that, than to read? To me, it’s like every book, every word tells a story from a new reality. Second of all, I’m not like, equipped to do manual labor at all. So, it was a natural choice to choose a profession that requires being locked up inside most of the time. ”

“Man, I wish everyone had as much passion for their education as you do.”

“I’m sure everyone has a reason for what they do,” Timmy says.

As the sun starts to set, the park emptying out, Armie looks at his at his watch. Timmy feels the butterflies erupt in his stomach once again. He knows for sure that he wants to see Armie again but isn’t sure if Armie feels the same way. The thought of watching Armie walk away gives him a sinking feeling in his stomach, his eyebrows pulling together in a frown. Not knowing where the courage comes from, he bites his lip, says “hey are you hungry? We could grab some food, if you want?” Looking back at Timmy, Armies face lights up at the proposition. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” he says.

Later that night, when standing in front of the small restaurant they had eaten at, Timmy shifts on his feet, scratching his neck while debating what to do next.

The date had been perfect. Conversation had flown easily, and opposite of the majority of dates he’s had, Timmy feels like he can be completely himself around Armie. Like no matter what he’d said, Armie had listened and been curious to know more. Had even been genuinely interested in knowing why Timmy didn’t eat meat, hadn’t made any remarks on how Timmy had admitted that “I don’t like the thought of eating something that’s been alive and breathing.”

He hadn’t even taken offence the way guys looking like him usually did, had just nodded, a serious expression on his face as he’d said, “that is actually really cool and totally makes sense. ”

Hadn’t come up with a thousand excuses or arguments as to why you shouldn’t be a vegetarian (which, Timmy had probably heard all of them by now,) hadn’t even asked the usual stupid questions like “ _what do you even eat, then?_ ” or “ _how do you live without bacon?_ ”And Timmy had been grateful and relieved.

But now, he’s slightly nervous, because how does he ask Armie if he wants to meet up again? The rational part of his brain knows that he should just ask him, but as usual, the irrational part wins, thus making him debate how to part ways with Armie in the least awkward way possible.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Armie smiles, stuffing his hands in his jean’s pockets.

“Yeah, me too,” Timmy smiles, trying his best to put as much meaning into his words as possible. 

Looking down the street in the direction of his apartment, Timmy wonders if this is his cue. If he should just thank Armie and head home. The silence stretching between them aren’t really making it easier for Timmy to think, and just as he’s about to wave and say goodnight, Armie says,

“I’d really like to see you again, Timmy,” making the butterflies in his stomach tumble around as a smile spreads across his face. “Yeah, me too,” Timmy breathes, relieved.

“So, it’s alright if I text you again tomorrow?” Armie asks, sounding just as relieved as Timmy feels.

“Yeah, that would be alright.”

For a minute, they just stand there, smiling at each other, before Armie suddenly leans in, making Timmy believe for a second that Armie is going to kiss him. His breath hitching, Timmy feels soft lips and slightly gruff stubble scratch his skin as Armie presses his lips to Timmy’s cheek in a quick but firm kiss. “Talk to you tomorrow then. Sleep well, Tim.” Turning around, Armie heads down the street in the opposite direction of Timmy.

That night, Timmy crawls into bed and falls asleep within minutes, fingertips resting on the skin where Armies lips had been.

* * *

The next morning, he wakes up to his phone going off on the nightstand. Confused and disorientated, he answers the phone with a groggy “hello”, his eyes barely open.

“Timmy, oh for God’s sake! Are you alright? Please tell me you -,”

“Morning to you too,” Timmy mumbles, falling back down on the mattress, rubbing a hand across his face. Then, just as his sister goes off again, the memories of last night comes back to him. And he remembers not having answered Pauline, right after having told her that he was going on a date.

“Shit, sorry P. I totally forgot to answer you, I’m home and alright though.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t pull that shit on me again Timothée.” Hearing her use his full name like that, he knows that he stepped in it badly.

Trying to divert her attention, he offers up the gossip he knows she wants.

“At least he was handsome,” he says, smiling into the receiver as he pulls a curl down in front of his face, going cross eyed.

“Yeah? He better fucking be. Now tell me more,” Pauline demands, already sounding less agitated. Blowing the curl out his face, Timmy rolls on his stomach, leaning on his elbows. “His name’s Armie, and he’s tall as in real freaking _tall_ and not in the lanky awkward kind of way, ‘cause he’s strong too, and smart and nice and UGH, I swear to God he’s like a mountain of every person’s wildest dream.” He rambles.

“Jeez Tim, you sure you haven’t just dreamed him or something?” Pauline laughs.

“Yeah yeah, I thought the same thing after I met him, but like he’s very real, and like, he kissed me on the cheek and-”

“ _Just_ on the cheek?”

“Just on the cheek! That’s what I’m saying P, he’s so sweet and a little shy and just- I can’t even.”

“I’m happy for you Timmy. Just don’t disappear on me like that next time alright?” Pauline asks, but he can hear the smile and warmth in her voice, and he knows they’re alright.

Hanging up the phone, Timmy looks at the time, sees that it’s 9 am. Figures that he might as well get out of bed. It’s Saturday, and he usually spends his weekends catching up on laundry, grocery-shopping and cleaning. If he feels productive enough, he’ll get a head start of next weeks’ assignments and reading. He does have that project due that he figures might be an obvious opportunity to work on with his study-group, but to be honest, he prefers doing these things alone. It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate them, he just feels like they always end up spending hours talking about everything but assignments and school. And yeah, he’ll join in on the hen-party, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to be the boring nerd who insists on strict business only.

Sighing, he stretches, feels his shoulder give a satisfying pop. Brings his phone to the small kitchen in his studio-apartment, tells himself that it’s not because he’s waiting for Armie to reach out.

Opens his fridge and rummages through it, pulling out scrabs of vegetables, the last eggs and milk he has left. Turns on his coffee machine while putting on the radio. He always feels old-fashioned when listening to the radio, but he likes having something to break the silence in his apartment. Feels like it makes everything a little cozier.

As he’s just about to get started on making an omelet, his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Promptly turning around a grabbing it from the counter, he feels the butterflies waking up when he sees that it is indeed Armie texting him. There’s a picture of a fridge containing nothing but ketchup, two water bottles and bag of carrots.

**Armie** : _Looks like someone should’ve gone to the store three days ago_ 🙃

Chuckling, Timmy hovers his thumb over the small keyboard. Looks at the contents on his kitchen counter. Thrums his fingers on the counter, before sucking in a breath, feeling bold but knowing that it won’t last long.

**Timmy** : _If you want to try the vegetarian version of breakfast omelet, you could come over?_

Pressing send, he immediately puts the phone down. Putting some distance between himself and the phone, he looks out of his kitchen window, biting his thumb. When his phone buzzes again, he feels like he’s going in loops on a roller-coaster.

**Armie** : _Give me thirty minutes_

Staring down at the phone, Timmy lets out a squeal, his face scrunching up in joy as he twirls around himself. Clearing his throat, he straightens his back and gives Armie his address, telling him he’ll buzz him in.

* * *

Turns out, having Armie sitting in his small kitchen, long legs folded under the dinner table while sipping coffee, does nothing to moderate Timmy’s increasing crush. He’d feared it would be awkward, that they’d have nothing left to talk about. But when he’d let Armie in and closed the door behind them, it had almost felt like Armie belonged right there in Timmy’s apartment.

“Did you sleep well?” Armie asks, swallowing a bite of eggs and vegetables, making Timmy’s eyes linger a tad too long on his lips, before answering.

Nodding, he says, “I can barely even remember falling asleep. Got woken up by my sister though, since I apparently forgot to answer her texts after telling her that I was going out.”

Chuckling, Armie holds his coffee cup in front of his mouth, says “does she live nearby?” before taking a sip.

“Uh, no. She and my parents live in France, actually. She moved to Paris to study drama, but when she got pregnant with my niece, my parents moved there too to help out with the baby.”

“Man, are you telling me you’re an uncle?” Armie asks excitedly, eyes lighting up.

Nodding, Timmy can’t help himself but feel pride swell in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he shows Armie a picture of the little girl. “Her name’s Isabelle” he says.

“She’s adorable Timmy. How old is she?” Armie asks, glancing up at Timmy before looking back down at the phone. “She’s turning two in three months,” Timmy says, smiling.

Twenty minutes later, they had finished their breakfast, Armie insisting that he washes the dishes, submitting Timmy to stand beside him, tea towel in hand. And Timmy doesn’t really know how it started, but suddenly he finds himself a giggling mess as Armie starts flicking soapy water at his face.

“Wha-,” Timmy exclaims, a look of utter surprise on his face. Looking guilty but not at all sorry, Armie shrugs before doing it again, this time making Timmy’s t—shirt wet too.

“What did you do that for?!” Timmy laughs as he tosses the tea towel in the direction of the kitchen counter, before lunging forward, splashing Armie back. Before he knows it, he’s running in the direction of his bathroom, Armie hot on his heals, laughing, “get back here!”

In the bathroom he quickly turns on the tap, filling his hands with water before effectively soaking Armie, his booming laugh and Timmy’s squeaks filling the tiny apartment.

Having caught up with Timmy, Armie collides their bodies, walking Timmy backwards until he’s caught between the wall and Armies chest. Placing his hands on either side of Timmy’s face, Armie looks down, soaking wet and out of breath. And Timmy doesn’t even have time to think or feel nervous before he feels Armies mouth on his.

As if on instinct he kisses back, tilting his head up, locking his arms around Armies neck. Is aware of his heart, can feel it almost beating out of his chest. But he isn’t able to focus on anything but the feeling of Armies lips gliding against his, the feeling of his tongue entering his mouth, the taste of Armie exploding in his mouth.

It’s intoxicating and he feels dizzy.

Feeling Armies hands grabbing both sides of his face, he lets out a sigh, pulling the bigger man closer. It’s not before Armie has hoisted Timmy up, hands grabbing his ass as he pushes him up against the wall that they pull apart.

“Shit. Are we going too fast? We’re going too fast, aren’t we?” Armie pants.

Pushing his fingers further into Armies hair, he nods, looks at Armies lips, says, “Yeah, we probably are,” and Armie can’t help himself, placing kisses behind Timmy’s ear, “you wanna stop?” he asks.

Shaking his head, Timmy says “no, no, you?”

Almost letting out a growl, Armie presses his lips back against Timmy’s, says “never.”

So, yeah, that’s probably how they ended up spending the majority of the noon on Timmy’s bed, making out.

By the time Armies stomach rumbles, Timmy feels like he knows every nook and cranny of Armies mouth and face. Tracing his face with the tip of his pointer finger, Timmy mumbles against Armies lips, “sounds like we need to actually go and buy some food now.”

* * *

Walking down the fruit section at the grocery store, Armie stops in front of the mangos, picks one up and looks at Timmy, arching his eyebrow in a questioning way, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. Laughing, Timmy shakes his head and fills their cart with apples and cauliflower instead.

Moving on to the dairy section, Timmy comes to a stop, trying to choose what kind of cream cheese to buy. He usually buys the chives flavored one, but this time tells himself to just try another one. Feeling Armies presence behind him, he acts as if he hasn’t noticed, letting his curls fall into his face, hiding the smile spreading on his face. “Can we get the one with chives? I’ve always wanted to try that one,” Armie asks, his warm palm resting on Timmy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth three times before he lets go. So, Timmy adds the chives flavored cream cheese to the cart, a simmering feeling of being happy buzzing just behind his ribcage.

Before making their way out of the store, Timmy asks Armie if he wants to buy some meat to go with the vegetables. Armie shakes his head, says “what? No, we don’t have to do that,” and Timmy insists that he won’t mind, it’s fine really. But Armie shakes his head again, pulls Timmy close, says “you’re not making me do anything I don’t want to, don’t worry about it.”

And so, Timmy shows Armie how to prepare the cauliflower and spinach, while the pasta is boiling. They just about remember to take the frying vegetables off the heat, saving it from getting burned, before Armie is back on Timmy, hands carding through his curls, mouth on his neck.

Laying on couch that night, his back against Armies chest, Timmy keeps feeling Armies eyes on him.

“what?” he whispers, turning his face to look up at the blue, blue eyes.

“Just can’t keep my eyes off of you,” Armie smiles, dipping down to kiss Timmy, gentle and soft. It makes Timmy feel mushy and warm, and it isn’t until Armie is fast asleep behind him, the movie having ended a long time ago, that Timmy stops to think.

Think about what has just happened in the last twenty-four hours. He’s known Armie for what? Three days if you count the day at the grocery store. Under any other circumstances, Timmy would feel like things were going way too fast. He still can’t help but ask himself, that what if Armie is only like this on the surface? What if he’s a complete freak who picks up his victims at grocery stores and stalks them the rest of their lives? Timmy almost snorts at himself. He highly doubts that that would be the case. But then again, what does he really know about Armie? He doesn’t even know his last name. Doesn’t know where the guy lives, doesn’t even knows what he does for a living. And yet… spending the whole day with him, kissing him, laying right here in his arms, Timmy feels like something is falling into place. That this might be something bigger than practical facts.

Pushing further into Armie, Timmy closes his eyes and promises himself that tomorrow, he’ll remember to ask Armie about those things.

* * *

The next morning, Timmy wakes up with a kink in his neck, a heavy arm draped around his stomach.

“Morning,” Armie mumbles against his curls, tightening the arm around Timmy.

“Morning… did we really sleep two people on the couch the whole night?” Timmy groans.

“Sure looks like it,” Armie yawns. Stretching his neck from side to side, Timmy groans again, says “I’m gonna go make us some breakfast.”

Putting bread in the toaster, Timmy turns on the coffee machine and is leaning against the counter, rubbing his left eye as Armie joins him in the kitchen. As Timmy moves to stand before Armie, he spreads his arms open, welcoming Timmy into a hug. They stand like that for a minute, Timmy’s head resting on Armies chest, before Timmy remembers.

“We don’t know each-others last names,” he says.

“Mhm, true. Mine’s Hammer. Armand Douglas Hammer, if you want the whole thing,” Armie says, chin resting on top of Timmy’s head. 

Pulling back to look up, Timmy asks, “your real name’s Armand?”

Grimacing, Armie nods. “yeah… but I’m not going to let anyone use that until I’m at least eighty.”

Laughing, Timmy admits, “my middle name is Hal. Timothée Hal Chalamet.”

“Would you look at us? Such posh gentlemen,” Armie laughs, eyes wrinkling in the perfect way Timmy has grown way too fond of already.

It’s while they’re washing the dishes from their breakfast that Timmy asks his next question.

“I feel like a total douche, but I completely forgot to ask about your job, ” he says, putting away the now clean plates. He doesn’t even notice how Armie freezes for a second, how his face turns into a worried frown.

“I uhm… I’m a sergeant.”

At that, Timmy stills. Swallows. “As in the military?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Armie says, scrubbing the frying pan for the second time.

“But it’s not like you’re sent off to war or anything, right?” Timmy asks, succeeding in one small chuckle, which really doesn’t do much in trying to lighten the question. Looking at Armie, he can already see the way his shoulders are raised, the tension in his neck clear. Timmy already knows the answer to his question.

“Yeah, about that. I’m uh, I’m supposed to leave in four weeks.”

To be honest, Timmy can see how it makes perfect sense. Armies stature, describing himself as a wild child. How he hadn’t told Timmy about his profession already.

How this was too good to be true from the beginning.

This was actually the answer to all of his questions last night. This was the thing about Armie that wasn’t perfect, wasn’t good.

“Where to?” Timmy asks, voice quiet.

“Aleppo, Syria” Armie says, his back still turned to Timmy.

Feeling dread spread through his body like an ice-cold hand, Timmy closes his eyes, says “oh.”

This time, Armie turns around, looks at Timmy, frown still very much present.

“It’s not only for five months, and it’s not even that bad right now, it’ll probably be boring and-”

But Timmy has already left the kitchen, his bedroom door falling shut behind him.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, back towards the door, Timmy squeezes his hands together.

He hates wars. Thinks they’re a stupid waste of human lives and money. Knows he might be slightly naïve regarding this subject, but he can’t help but think that if governments would stop blowing up each other at the nearest chance they got, the world would be a much better place. He simply just hates the whole concept. Can’t even imagine dating someone who makes a living out of it. Can’t imagine being one of those people who cries at the airport as his partner willingly flies off to a war zone. It’s just lunatic, if you ask him.

And he knows it’s probably because somewhere deep down feels disappointed and scared, but he can’t help but let the anger take its place.

Trying to focus on his breathing as he feels his jaw tighten, his leg starting to bounce up and down.

Standing up from his bed, he flings his bedroom door open, just to see Armie standing in front of him, biting his nails in worry.

“Timmy,” Armie starts, but Timmy won’t have it. Marches towards the kitchen, only to spin around when he hears Armie following. “You know what I think? I think it’s right fucking stupid. I think it’s a waste of resources, a waste of time and a waste of fucking human lives!” He thunders, pointing his finger at Armie. “And I can’t believe you’re one of them!”

This time he walks to the kitchen, putting the rest of the dishes away, slamming the cup boards until there aren’t anything left to slam. Leaning his hands on the kitchen counter, he stares straight ahead, trying to calm down his rapid breathing. 

“One of them? You don’t even know my reasons,” Armie says, sounding taken back.

“If you’re going to tell me that you’re doing it for your country or some bull shit like that I don’t even want to hear it.”

Huffing, Armie steps a little closer, says “have you seen the news lately? Have you seen how bad it is, how children are running around the streets, hungry and orphaned, literally dodging bullets constantly?”

Turning around, Timmy looks at Armie, his eyes hard. “Of course, I have! That is literally why I’m telling you that war is so stupid!”

Throwing his arms out in an exasperated motion, Armie raises his voice a little louder. “Do you seriously think that just because I don’t go, the war will end? Because I’m telling you, it won’t. But I can try and make a difference for those children, for those people stuck in the middle of a conflict they didn’t ask to be a part of.”

Looking at Armie, Timmy knows that he means it. That Armie isn’t going out there to be a war hero, to have people clapping at him in airports. Can even see where he’s coming from, knows that it makes sense. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s shocked and scared.

“As long as people keep going to war, those children are going to suffer.” And he knows that he’s being unfair, that Armie won’t be able to stop all the worlds suffering just by finding another job.

Shoulders slumping, eyes looking resigned and hurt, Armie asks quietly, “should I just go?”

Before he knows it, Timmy is nodding, turning his back to Armie.

Listening to Armie moving towards the door, gathering his things and pulling on his shoes, Timmy feels his anger fizzling out. His muscles loosen up, the anger being replaced by an alarming pressure behind his eyelids, his chest tightening up. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

“I’m really sorry Timmy,” Armie says, opening the door. And Timmy doesn’t know what the fuck Armie is apologizing for. He wasn’t the one yelling at Timmy because of a freaking job, wasn’t the one to insult his choices in life. Hearing the door to his apartment slam shut, Timmy feels panic strike right through him. What is he _doing?_ It takes him about half a minute before he’s running towards the door, flinging it open.

“Armie, wait!”

Stopping halfway down the stairs, Armie turns around, looks up at Timmy.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know why I just said those things, I’m sorry-,” walking back up the stairs, Armie pulls Timmy flush against his chest.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he mumbles, just as Timmy lets go of his tears, a sob tearing through his chest.

“Come on,” Armie says, leading them back inside the apartment where he pulls both of them down on the couch, Timmy in his lap.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I never get so angry, I don’t what just happened.” Timmy apologizes, trying to dry up his tears.

“Hey, it’s alright. To be honest, I had a feeling that you’d probably have a strong opinion on the matter,” Armie smiles, rubbing his hand on Timmy’s thigh in a soothing manner.

“I do, but usually not enough to get me going like that. ” Timmy hiccups, continues, “I think it’s mostly because it’s you. Like, you can’t just risk your life like that Armie.”

Telling Armie the truth feels so much better than yelling at him.

“Yeah? So, it’s mostly because you got scared?”

Nodding, Timmy agrees. “I know it’s kinda stupid, like, we haven’t known each other for more than a few days, I don’t even have the right to be worried.”

With a finger beneath Timmy’s chin, Armie tilts up his head, a serious expression in his eyes. “I know we’ve only known each for less than a week. But I think we can both agree that there’s something happening here, right? Or is it just me?” he asks.

Shaking his head, Timmy sniffles, smiles shyly. “It’s not just you. It’s… I really like you Armie.”

Sighing in relief, Armie says, “yeah? Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

Nuzzling his head against Armies chin, Timmy closes his eyes before meeting Armie halfway, their lips colliding in a soaring kiss.

It’s later that evening, when they naked together, Timmy’s head resting on Armies chest, the low rumble of Armies voice reverberating on his skin, that Timmy knows. Lifts his head up and cuts Armie off midsentence, says “I’ll wait for you. If you want me to.”

Armie goes quiet for a moment, a meaningful expression in his eyes before he kisses the top of Timmy’s head. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

* * *

For the next week, they don’t leave each other’s sides, not unless they have to. Like when Timmy has classes, or Armie goes back to his place which is just 30 minutes from Timmy’s to get fresh clothes or goes to the gym. And really, Timmy would be lying if he said he minded dating someone who could manhandle him like Armie did. On Wednesday morning, Armie comes home from his morning run, sweaty and panting, just as Timmy walks towards the bathroom, not a thread covering his naked body. They both freeze at the sight of each other, until Timmy gets a playful glint in his eye, leaning against the wall as he runs a hand through his hair, all the while looking Armie straight in the eye.

Letting out a very primal groan, Armie stalks towards him, catching him just as Timmy jumps, carrying him into the shower. In there, Armie fucks Timmy against the shower wall, hard and needy, like he’ll starve if he doesn’t.

Timmy never thought he’d feel proud of being covered in hickeys, but he does.

They don’t talk much about Armies upcoming posting. Mostly because Timmy don’t think he can handle the rush of emotions when talking about it, and Armie don’t want to upset either of them.

So, it’s not until Sunday night, that Armie brings it up. Timmy is sitting on the couch, reading a book that Armie thinks he’s heard of once. They’ve known each other for little over a week, and under any other circumstances, Armie would think that what he’s about to ask of Timmy might be a bit too fast. But this is them, and it feels so right that Armie honestly doesn’t need to think much about it. Plus, Timmy did say that he’d wait for him.

Standing in front of the TV, Armie looks at Timmy, a piece of paper in his hand.

Clearing his throat, he decides to just get it over with.

“Every time we’re being sent off, we’re supposed to write down the contact information on the person who’s to be contacted if something were to happen. To me.” He says, shifting on his feet.

Looking up, Timmy frowns slightly. “yeah? Who’s your person?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. But needs Armie to say it.

“I would like you to be my person this time.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Timmy nods, looking back down at his book, feeling his pulse spiking. Tells himself that this is good, this way, he’ll be the first one to know if Armie isn’t okay. Right? Which means that if anything were to happen, he wouldn’t rely on strangers to let him know. This means that Armie wants him to be his _person,_ the most important person to know about his well-being. He’ll just have to focus on that, and not let the fear of the information actually being needed overtake him.

Later, when they’re both in bed, Timmy can’t sleep. When he feels Armies arm pulling him closer, he knows that Armie isn’t sleeping either.

“What are you thinking about?” Armie whispers.

“How will I know?” Timmy asks.

“Know what?”

“If they’re trying to contact me,” Timmy whispers, playing with the hairs on Armies arm.

“Timmy-,” Armie starts, his voice serious.

“No, just – please. I need to know as much as possible, otherwise I’ll keep thinking about it”

Armie is quiet for a moment, before he turns on the light at the bedside and sits up against the headboard.

“They’ll come here and knock on your door. For the first 24 hours, you’ll be the only one to know. Right after the death notification you’ll be contacted by a casualty assistance officer, who’ll help with whatever questions you may have, and set up a meeting in order to help you with the legal matters.” Armie says, his voice sounding very matter-of-factly.

Not looking at Armie, Timmy nods his head. Purses his lips and tries not to imagine that scenario.

“Baby,” Armie sighs reaching out towards Timmy. This time, Timmy does look at Armie. The nickname is new, and it makes Timmy feel warm and giddy.

“You can’t think these things, you hear me? I can’t be out there, knowing that it’s keeping you up at night.” Reaching out, he grabs Timmy’s hands between his warm palms, looks Timmy in the eye.

“It’s not my first time, you know that, right? I know what I’m doing, I’ve been trained to do this.”

And Timmy knows this, knows that this will be Armies fourth trip, knows that he’s spent his whole career doing this. But it doesn’t make it any less frightening to Timmy. What if he runs out of luck this time?

“It’s just that—I just found you, Armie. What if this is all we get?”

Timmy feels like it would be fair if Armie got fed up. If he got tired of Timmy’s selfishness, of not supporting Armie as much as he deserves. But yet again, Armie proves that he is so much better.

Pulling Timmy into his lap, he kisses his temple, says, “this is important to me, Tim. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less important, alright? So, you’re just gonna have to listen to me when I tell you that I’m gonna go and I’ll probably be bored out of my mind the whole time. I’m gonna think about you every day for those five months, and I’m gonna come back home to you. You aren’t going to get rid of me that easily.”

Leaning his forehead against Armies, Timmy whispers quietly, “alright. Alright.”

“I’m going to miss you too, you know?” Armie smiles.

“You better,” Timmy breaths, leaning in for a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

* * *

It’s about a week later, when Timmy is sitting in the passenger seat of Armies car on the way to have dinner at Armies parents place. His palms are slightly clammy, and he keeps checking himself in the rear-view mirror.

Two days earlier, Armie taken a call from his mother. And Timmy had felt stupid, because how’d it slipped his mind that Armie had a family? He had felt bad thinking that he’d probably been keeping Armie from seeing his family, who he was going to be leaving soon too.

Timmy had felt like he’d been intruding on something private, but Armie had stayed beside Timmy through the whole call, making flirty faces and caressing his arm the whole time. When he heard Armie saying “ _oh, by the way, dad, will you tell mom that I’m bringing someone on Sunday? – yeah, his name’s Timothée_ ,” he’d felt like his heart skipped a beat, his body freezing. Hanging up the phone, Armie had turned to Timmy, said, “I hope you don’t mind?” and Timmy had laughed and felt so happy, squeezing Armies hand to let him know that _no, I don’t mind at all._

That doesn’t change the fact that he’s nervous though. While Armie isn’t he first guy he’s dated, this is the first time he’s been brought home to meet the parents, and he has no idea if he’ll be good at it. What if he doesn’t know what to say? What if he knocks something over? What if they don’t think he’s good enough for their son?

Feeling a hand on his thigh, he looks in the direction of Armie. “You know, my mom had my dad asking about what food to make you right? I think she’s nervous about making a good impression or something,” Armie laughs.

And Timmy knows that while it’s probably true what Armie is telling him, he’s also trying to ease Timmy’s own tension. And it works, so for the rest of the ride, Timmy shuts off his brain and just looks at Armie, trying to save the picture of Armie driving a car for the days where he’ll have to make do with memories.

Standing in front of Armies parent’s house, Timmy at pulls the bottom of his t-shirt, tells himself that _you can do this._

Then, the door opens, revealing a small woman with a round face, eyes blue and hair blonde, pulled up in a ponytail. “Armie!” she exclaims, looking pleased.

“Mom, hi,” Armie greets, bending down to kiss her cheek before placing his hand on Timmy’s back, says, “mom, this is Timothée – Timothée, my mom, Abigail.”

Smiling, she opens her arms and pulls Timmy into a big hug, telling him, “Timothée, welcome! We’ve been so excited to meet you!” and Timmy already feels like this isn’t going to go as horrible as he’d feared. Even Armies dad whose name he learns is William, welcomes him with open arms.

To Timmy’s surprise, when Armie lets the fact that they’ve only known each other for about three weeks slip, no one bats an eye. William just looks at his wife, smiles and says, “when you know, you know.” The further they get into the night, the more relaxed Timmy feels.

The fact that Armie is leaving for the next 5 months, doesn’t even seem to be such a delicate topic. It’s when William asks Armie how much time he’s got left home, Armie saying that he’s leaving on Thursday, that Timmy feels a ball of anxiety form in his gut. In four days, Armie is leaving.

Plastering on a tight smile, Timmy tries not to let it bother him so much.

“You know, Timmy, you’re welcome here at any time, right? Maybe you could still come over once a week. I believe I’ve got some photo albums somewhere that needs to see the light of the day soon, and I’d love to hear more about that Beckett seminar you’re taking.” Looking into Abigail’s kinds eyes, Timmy feels the ball of anxiety loosen, his chest filling with the feeling of being accepted and welcome. Hearing Armie groan in faux embarrassment at the thought of Timmy looking at his baby pictures, Timmy smiles for real this time, says “that sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Later that night, when Timmy is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth, Armie comes up behind him. Kisses his cheek before he places himself on top of the toilet lid and just looks at Timmy, his features relaxed and curious. Timmy smiles shyly back at him when Armie winks. Then he spits out the toothpaste and asks, “what are you looking at?”

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Armie looks him in the eye and says, “I love you.”

While Timmy knew that this was where they were headed, that he himself had already fallen pretty hard for Armie, he had not expected to hear those words right now. So, it’s only fair really, that his reaction is to just stand there, gaping at Armie. “You do?” he breathes out.

“Yes, silly. You’re making it very hard not to.” And Timmy had giggled, had stood between Armies thighs, burrowing his fingers in Armies hair and whispered, “I love you too. Now, take me to bed. Please.”

So what if Armie was leaving in four days? He’d come back home again. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, here's my Tumblr: Kiros18   
> Feel free to pop over there and yell at me if the need should arise. I promise I'm nice :)


	3. When I'm away, I will remember how you kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, stop,” Armie says, pulling Timmy into his arms. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?” he asks, kissing Timmy’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the angst has begone

Waking up on Monday, Armie is the first thing Timmy sees when he opens his eyes. The man is still sleeping, a peaceful look on his face. With his lips parted, hair tousled and long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, Timmy feels an overwhelming wave of love washing over him. _How did you find me?_ he wonders.

Knowing that it’s selfish but not being able to stop himself either, he reaches out and swipes Armies hair out of his face, caressing his stubbled cheek until blue eyes are staring back at him.

Smiling, Armie squeezes his eyes shut before pulling Timmy on top of him. “You little minx. What time is it even?” Armie rasps against Timmy’s shoulder.

“It’s five minutes past `fuck your boyfriend´, so you better get going,” Timmy giggles, pushing his hips against Armies.

Armie raises an eyebrow, smirk on his face as he says, “Is it really? Guess I better get to it then,” before rolling them around until Timmy is beneath him.

Leaning down to kiss him, Armie moans at the feeling of Timmy’s eagerness. Moans at how his boyfriend pulls at his hair to bring them closer, closer, closer. Runs his hand down Timmy’s chest, paying extra attention to his sensitive nipples, until he’s arching off the bed, panting, “Armie, please.”

“What do you want?” Armie asks, and it makes Timmy blush, because he’s never been good with these kinds of things. Never been good at expressing his needs, never been good with words. In spite of all the years he’s spent reading them, studying them, he’s never learned how to use them.

So, he blushes, because when it comes to Armie, he wants everything. He wants the longing, the fighting, the loving, the laughing, the hurt, the boredom. He wants things he’s never wanted before, and it’s scary and wonderful and all so new. So, what he ends up almost whispering is, “I want you to fill me up from the inside. I want to feel you everywhere.”

Armie gives him exactly that. Trails his mouth from the top of Timmy’s head to the bottom of his feet, sucks on his tongue, his nipples, fingers, his cock, his hole and his toes. Runs his hands along the inside of his thighs, takes his sweet time opening him up, first with his tongue, then his fingers. Takes his cock all the way down his throat, three fingers pushing into Timmy, until he’s a sweating, pleading mess. Pushes his cock inside of Timmy’s tight heat while licking at his throat, moaning and murmuring how good he tastes, how good he feels around him, how _good_ Timmy is to him. When he comes, it’s to Timmy’s encouraging words of “ _yes, Armie, give it to me, want to feel you inside of me the whole day.”_

It’s after breakfast, when Armie is brushing his teeth and looking himself in the mirror and says, “I really need to get a haircut.”

Spitting out his own toothpaste, Timmy asks, “why? I like it long,” and Armie spits out too, says, “oh do you really?” his tone teasing.

Rolling his eyes, Timmy nudges him playfully with his elbow before moving out of the bathroom.

“But I can’t show up on Thursday looking like this,” Armie continues.

“Is it like a rule or something? Or is it just how fashion in military looks?” Timmy asks.

Running a hand through his hair, Armie says, “don’t think it’s a rule as much as a practical precaution. Can you imagine a bunch of top trained soldiers running around with their hair getting stuck in their helmets?”

Turning around, Timmy looks suggestively at Armie, bites his lip, says, “I can defiantly imagine you with a buzzcut. Want me to help you out?”

It makes Armie laugh, letting out a growl as he grabs Timmy by the ass, says, “you’re freaking insatiable. What am I gonna do with you?”

To be honest, they both know what Armie is going to do with him, but it’ll have to wait until Timmy’s ass isn’t so sore from this morning.

* * *

An hour later, Timmy is walking around Armies apartment, waiting for Armie. Inside his office, he looks through the titles in the bookcase, until his attention is caught by a small piece of paper. Picking it up and turning it around, he sees a picture of Armie. He’s sitting on a stool, arms crossed in front of him, a huge smile lightning up his face. It looks like some sort of portrait, and Timmy loves it. It’s as if everything he loves about Armie is present in that picture. Pocketing the picture, he leaves the room.

Laying on top of Armies bed spread out like a starfish, blowing a curl out of his face and looking at the picture, he listens to Armie rummaging around, looking for his shaver. It occurs to Timmy that if they’d stayed at Armies place for the last couple of weeks, they would’ve had a much larger bed to sleep in. But then again, Timmy loved being squashed against Armie for the whole night, and Armie hadn’t complained that much about the size of Timmy’s bed. He likes the smell of Armies bedsheets though, so maybe he should’ve suggested it.

“Found it!” Armie calls from the bathroom, popping into the bedroom with a sigh. “What do you have there?” Armie asks as he throws himself on the bed next to Timmy.

“That old thing? Where’d you find that?” He doesn’t sound mad that Timmy had obviously been snooping, just curious.

“Between your books. Can I keep it?” Timmy asks.

Pulling his shoulder, Armie kisses Timmy’s temple, says “you can keep anything you want,” before standing from the bed.

“You ready to go? With this amount of hair, it’ll take the whole afternoon.”

Standing too, picture securely hidden away inside his wallet, Timmy says,

“the real question is, are you ready, Rapunzel?” grinning and earning himself a slap on the ass as he walks past Armie.

On Tuesday afternoon, when they’re sitting in each end on the couch, Timmy reading a novel he needs to write a paper on, Armie trying to read one of Timmy’s books, Armies phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, Armie grunts and gets up, disappearing into the bedroom, leaving the door open.

Timmy figures he just doesn’t want to interrupt Timmy’s reading, that if it was something private, Armie would’ve closed the door. He can still hear him talking, and it sounds like whoever is on the phone, must be someone Armie knows well, probably a friend or something.

When he comes back into the living room, Timmy looks down at the pages, acts as if he hadn’t been straining his ears to listen in on Armies conversation.

“That was Nick,” he announces, sitting back down on the couch as Timmy lifts his feet, before putting them back down on Armies thighs. Nick? Timmy vaguely remembers Armie mentioning a Nick but can’t really remember the context. “Sorry, who?” he asks, looking up.

“Nick. My friend from high school. I think I’ve mentioned him.”

“Oh, yeah. What about him?”

“I can’t remember if I told you already, but he’s leaving with me on Thursday,”

_Now,_ Timmy remembers. Nick was the best friend who Armie had met in high school, the two of them had apparently been inseparable since then, resulting in Nick being part of Armies squad or whatever. Timmy really hadn’t figured out how these things worked yet.

“Well, he wanted to know if we were up for heading out tonight, like, one last night of freedom or whatever,” Armie laughs.

To Timmy, it sounds like one last night of drinking. On a Tuesday? To be honest, he really wasn’t in the mood for alcohol and loud places with strangers. At the same time, he didn’t want Armie to feel like he was being held back already. Trying to school his features back into a reassuring smile, Timmy almost agrees, when Armie cuts in. “Relax baby, it’s just going to be dinner and maybe a drink afterwards if we feel like it. He’s bringing his girlfriend too. I think you’ll like her.”

And like, Timmy wouldn’t put himself in the jealous-boyfriend category, but feeling the relief flooding his veins, he gotta admit that yeah, maybe he’d been a little jealous of this _Nick._

“I was going to agree anyway,” Timmy mumbles, sinking further into the couch to hide his smile when Armie laughs, picks up his foot and kisses the sliver of skin between his pants and sock.

* * *

“Armie, man! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, what’ve you been up to?”

A tall, South-European looking guy booms out as Timmy and Armie walks towards the booth currently occupied by a dark-haired man and a petite blonde girl.

“Nick, it’s good to see you too,” Armie says, pulling Nick into a one-armed hug, slamming him on his back twice in a way that Timmy’s really never felt brutal enough to do himself.

“Yeah, yeah and you must be Timmy,” Nick says, flashing a dazzling smile at Timmy, extending his hand. His handshake is firm, but warm and Timmy decides that Nick defiantly deserves a second chance. Standing up behind Nick is the blonde girl, who reaches over and pulls Timmy into a tight hug (no back-slamming, thank you very much,) says, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Timmy, I’m Saoirse.”

And yeah, maybe Armie was right after all, because she’s already succeeded in making Timmy’s nerves calm down significantly.

Sitting down, Nick picks up a menu, says, “no seriously, what’ve you been doing? You just, like, disappeared.” Timmy instantly feels guilty but can’t but bite his cheek to suppress a smile when Saoirse jams her elbow into Nicks side, asking, “seriously?” an incredulous look on her face.

Then, realization dawns on Nick. “Oh! Fuck, of course, sorry,” he laughs nervously.

“Seriously, don’t mind him, he’s just being a dork,” Saoirse says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, what’s new?” Armie laughs. “Nah, it’s fine man. Sorry I just went MIA like that. I’ve been busy with other matters, as you’ve probably guessed by now.” And he actually has the nerve, the audacity to wink at Timmy.

Groaning in embarrassment, Timmy fiddles with his menu, looks at Nick, says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was keeping him awa-”, “don’t worry man, we’re good. I’m gonna have to put up with his bossy ass for the next five months anyway” Nick says, smiling reassuringly at Timmy.

“You damn well are. Now leave my boyfriend alone, private Delli-Santi,” Armie mock-orders.

“Yes sir, yes.” Nick obeys.

Looking up at Armie, Timmy feels like a blushing high school girl, butterflies going crazy. It’s the first time Armie has actually used the term, and it feels good. _Boyfriend._

Turns out, Saoirse is a nurse, and had been deployed by the army at the same time and place as Nick had been when they met each other. Now she worked in an ER at a hospital in the city. By now, Timmy new for sure that Armie had been right about him liking her. She seemed truly interested his studies and interests, made sure that he was the part of the conversation for the whole night, and when Nick and Armie were taking the piss, she didn’t back down. Timmy had a feeling that the small pretty girl was only an exterior, that on the inside she was made of steel.

Four hours and two G&T’s later, Timmy stood beside Armie on the street, feeling warm and carefree. Nick and Saoirse had been nothing but welcoming and sweet, and Armie had constantly made sure to be in physical contact with Timmy the whole night.

Hugging Timmy goodbye, Saoirse says, “Thank you for tonight, Timmy. Now, you’ve got my number, so don’t hesitate to text or whatever if you’d like to hang out sometime. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Thursday, right?”

Thursday. Right. Armie is leaving.

“’Yeah defiantly,” he says, resolutely pushing down the anxiety.

That night, when they lay naked in bed (Timmy insisted, Armie obeyed, knowing that they both needed to be as close as possible,) Armie strokes his hand up and down Timmy’s arms, asks, “did you have fun tonight?”

“I did, I really did. They’re fun and you were right about Saoirse. She’s really nice.”

“That means a lot you know,” Armie says, looking Timmy in the eye.

Timmy doesn’t answer with words, just pulls Armie closer by the face, kissing before scooting down the bed, swallowing Armies half hard cock into his mouth. “Fuck, I love you,” Armie moans. Closing his eyes, Timmy lets his emotions take him, hidden away by the duvet, taking as much of Armie as he can, before he can’t anymore. Tomorrow, Armie will be packing up for five months, and Timmy will be one day closer to sleeping alone.

* * *

“Do you think you’ll need this?” Timmy asks, holding up a black hoodie, the letter A written in capital on the chest.

“No, you can keep it here,” Armie says, winking at Timmy.

“Good,” Timmy says, folding it neatly and placing it in his closet. He wanted to put it on right there, but he was afraid that his smell would drown out Armies, and he needed stuff that smelled like Armie for the lonely nights, so. In the closet it goes.

“Do you want takeout or homecooked tonight?” Timmy asks as he slips on his sneakers, grabbing his keys.

“Uh… takeout will be fine. Hey, have you seen my- oh, right,” Armies says, at the same time as Timmy points in the direction of the coffee table where a phone is tossed halfway beneath Timmy’s Hemmingway collection.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The drive to Armies place is short, and it almost disappoints Timmy, who feels like he could spend hours watching Armie behind the wheel. He can’t put his finger on why exactly, but there’s just something about the way Armie looks completely in control and relaxed that _really_ gets Timmy going.

Once inside, they set to work, packing up the things Armie will need to bring with him.

It’s a challenge, and not one Timmy feels up for. For each item Armie puts in his bag, Timmy feels the ball of anxiety in his stomach getting bigger. At one point, he feels like it has reached his throat, his breathing feeling strained, hands shaking. So, he hides away in Armies small office. Runs his hands over the book spines, tries to find solace in the fact that nothing from the office has been put in the bag. It reminds Timmy that Armie is coming back, that this is just temporary. _Until his next deployment,_ the voice inside his head says. Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath. He can’t think about that right now. Right now, he needs to take one day at a time. Tomorrow, when they go to the airport, he’ll take one hour at a time. When Armie is on the plane, he’ll take one minute at a time. And if he reaches the point where it’s down to one second at a time, then that’ll be alright. Because it’s temporary.

“I think that was it,” Armie says, appearing in the doorway.

Swallowing, Timmy turns around, breathes, “you sure?” as he tries to walk past Armie, avoiding any eye contact.

“Hey, stop,” Armie says, pulling Timmy into his arms. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?” he asks, kissing Timmy’s forehead.

“Just wanted to make sure tha-” Timmy starts, trying to move away. “I’ve already doublechecked twice. Now tell me what’s bothering you.” Starring straight into Timmy’s eyes, Armies leaves no room for debate.

Starring back at him, Timmy fumbles for the words, before they all start tumbling out of his mouth.

“I’ve never had someone introduce me to their parents before. I’ve never had someone snogging me before I brush my teeth, but you do it every morning, and I’ve never been with someone who is more myself than I am, I’ve never loved someone so thoroughly, and I’-I-,” Timmy says, working himself more and more into a frantic, before Armie shushes him, his face drawn into a worried frown. “I know, I know,” he says, before crashing their lips together, hoisting Timmy up as if he didn’t weigh a thing. Eyes glassy and voice thick, Timmy pulls back, says, “I love you so much, it feels like, like it’s suffocating me, like I can’t breathe sometimes, and what if I can’t breathe without you?”

Sniffling, Armie hides his face in Timmy’s curls, says, “don’t say that baby. You can, and you will. For me, yeah?”

Of course, he will. Because isn’t that the whole point? They aren’t two separate persons anymore. They’ve grown into one of the same, so if one of them fails, the other one will automatically be doomed. When one of them leaves, they’ll both be torn into half pieces with jagged edges.

So, Timmy will try. One day at a time.

Making sure that the fridge is empty, that the heat is off and that Armie hasn’t forgotten anything, they stand in the doorway, ready to go back to Timmy’s.

“Wait,” Armie says as Timmy is about to open the door. Pulling out his set of keys, Armie wriggles the big silver one out of the keyring, holding it out towards Timmy. Looking confused up at Armie, Timmy arches an eyebrow. “It’s not like I’m going to use it anyway. Plus, this way you can like, check on the dog and plants and stuff.”

Looking fondly at Armie, Timmy says, “you don’t even have a dog. Or plants.” Then, Armie had shrugged, said, “alright, so maybe I want you to have a key to my apartment. So what?” and Timmy had kissed him, tried to convey everything he felt through the small point of physical contact.

That night, when Timmy had pulled off Armies cock, ready to feel Armie inside of him, Armie had grabbed his arm, looked at him and said, “I want you to fuck me this time,” and Timmy had whimpered, felt his pulse spiking.

Being inside of Armie had felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. The way Armie had been clinging on to him, pleading for more, being completely at Timmy’s mercy, had made Timmy’s heart soar.

It had been an intense mess of sweaty bodies clinging feverishly to each other, praises and I-love-yous drowning in moans and chanting of _Timmy, Baby, Armie._

It’s been an hour since Armie had fallen asleep, and Timmy is still very much awake. Carefully moving out of the bed, Timmy pulls on Armies t-shirt and walks into the living room. In there, he locates a piece of paper and a pen. Stares at the paper for about five minutes, before he starts writing.

_Armie,_

_I honestly can’t remember the last time I sat down and wrote an actual letter, so forgive me if it’s a bit of a mess._

_Anyway. I’m writing this, because tomorrow, you’ll get on a plane and fly across the world to help people who needs you. I know I haven’t exactly given the impression that I understand why you do what you do, but I want you to know now, that I support you to the full extent. I’m not saying that I understand completely, but I’m trying, and I’ll keep trying, even when we’re apart. Because you’re important , Armie._

_You swept me off my feet in less than a week, and with you came all the colors, warmth and life. I’m forever grateful for that. For you._

_When you’re not here, I’ll treasure the memories we’ve made, and dream about the ones to come._

_We have the stars, you and I. And this is given once only._

_Until we see each other again, I want you to take care and remember that I love you and know that I’m ridiculously proud of you._

_Yours,_

_Timmy_

Putting the letter in a white envelope, he writes Armies name on it and places it inside the book Amie had packed earlier.

Despite feeling drained and wrecked, Timmy barely slept that night. His sleep had been fitful, his dreams a mess of colors and emotions that didn’t make sense. Every time he’d woken up, he’d sought out Armies body, feeling the other man pulling him close every time.

Thursday morning they’re both awake before the alarm goes off. None of them says anything, they just lay there, looking at each other, both of them afraid to break the silence.

In three hours, they’ll load the car with Armies stuff.

In four hours, Armie will kiss Timmy one last time, before he boards the plane.

In five hours, Timmy won’t know what to do with himself.

Sucking in a deep breath, Timmy reaches out, runs his hand along Armies short hair. Traces a line from his eyebrow to his cheekbone, to his bottom lip, a look of wonder on his face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Smiling, Armie kisses Timmy’s thumb, says “I’m nothing compared to you,” and pulls him in for a kiss.

Having squished both of them into Timmy’s small shower, Timmy had washed Armie thoroughly from head to toe, before getting down on his knees, sucking Armies cock. Armie had seen stars when he came down Timmy’s throat, at the same time as Timmy came, shooting all over the floor and Armies feet. 

Then, Armie had washed off Timmy, kissing every inch of creamy white skin.

Dried off and dressed for the day, Timmy checked the time. Two hours left until they had to leave.

In between touches and kisses, they made breakfast. When about to set the table, Timmy had looked at the dinner table in the kitchen, before deciding that today, he wouldn’t let a table come in between him and Armie.

So, they had sat on the couch, Armie leaned back with Timmy in his lap as they fed each other bites of toast and pieces of fruit. At one point, Armie had insisted that Timmy had at least five bites more before he’d get another kiss.

They didn’t have a lot of breakfast that morning, but who cares? They would have breakfast every day for the next five months. But each other, they would have to stock up on today.

None of them talks about how much time they have left, not until Armie murmurs into Timmy’s hair, “we’ve gotta go in ten minutes baby.”

Lifting his head off Armies shoulder, Timmy leans his forehead against Armies, nods and lets out a shaky breath. “Ten more minutes then,” Timmy whispers.

Leaning forward, Armie catches Timmy’s lips in a kiss that almost makes Timmy lose his cool. Right now, he’s scared that he’ll break apart if Armie lets go of him. Starts to have second thoughts about going to the airport with Armie. Feels like he won’t be able to deal with other people when he inevitably crumbles. “We’re going to be fine,” Armie says, forcing Timmy to look him in the eye with a tight grip on his face. “You won’t even notice that I’m gone before I’m back here.”

Sniffling, Timmy clings to Armie, tells himself, _don’t upset him even more, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

Stealing himself, he nods his head, says, “I can’t wait.”

* * *

Arriving at the airport, Timmy’s hands are shaking, and he feels cold, even though it’s summer air around them is hot.

He’s not really sure how he expected this to go, but he’s still overwhelmed by all of the people rushing around, none of them noticing that Timmy’s world is slowly coming to a halt.

He walks beside Armie, who has his back slung over one arm, his other hand holding tightly onto Timmy’s, until they find Nick and Saoirse who’s already arrived. They greet each other with hugs and small smiles, and Timmy wishes that he could look as calm and composed as Saoirse does. Thinks that maybe it’s due to Nick having left like this before, that maybe she’s just used to the drill.

Doesn’t dwell on the thought that maybe he’ll be used to it too someday.

Earlier, when Timmy had asked Armie if his parents were coming too, Armie had said no. Explained that they preferred acting as if it was just any normal day, that he was just leaving for a normal day at the job. Timmy wishes he could do the same.

Looking down at Timmy, Armies looks determined, and his words makes Timmy’s blood run cold when he speaks. “Listen, Timmy. I know this isn’t for everyone, that a lot of people find the… physical absence hard to cope with. So, if you feel like you need something that I can’t give you while I’m gone, I want you to know that… that, I forgive you,” he says, mouth set in a hard line. 

“What are you talking about?” Timmy asks, feeling his stomach churning.

“I’m giving you a free pass to-”

“No, shut up! What the fuck, Armie?” Timmy cuts him off, voice stern, mortified.

Holding Armies face between his hands, Timmy looks him dead in the eye, says, “do you seriously think I’d _ever_ want that? You’re the only one I fucking want, you hear me? Don’t you fucking doubt that, ever.”

The look of relief and sadness that washes over Armies features is all the confirmation Timmy needs that Armie wouldn’t really be alright with Timmy being with another man.

“We’re boarding in five,” Nick says, slapping Armie on the shoulder. Nodding, Armie looks back at Timmy, asks, “I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll be right where you left me,” Timmy confirms, feeling his heartbeat pick up the pace.

This is it.

“I love you. So fucking much,” Armie says, kissing Timmy as if his life depended on it.

“I love you too. Always,” Timmy mumbles back, feeling a lump in his throat. _I don’t want you to go._

Pulling back, Armie smiles a small smile that does nothing to convince Timmy that he’s alright.

When Nick goes in for a hug, Timmy tells him, “if he as much as loses a hair-,”

“I’ll look out for him for you. Promise,” Nick says, slapping Timmy on the back.

By the time Armie and Nick are walking away, their backs turned to Timmy and Saoirse, Timmy can’t feel a thing. Not until Armie has disappeared completely, and Saoirse says, “they’ll be back before we know it.”

Then, Timmy feels the fragile bubble he’d built around him burst. All of the tears he’d spend the whole morning keeping at bay seems to have broken lose as he heaves in a breath, hand covering his mouth when he hears the sound coming out of himself. His chest tightens, throat closes up, the world going blurry.

Saoirse’s face is just a blob of blue and blond when she stands in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Oh honey,” she says, pulling him into a secluded corner, hugging him tightly.

When he’s calmed down enough to breath regularly and watch where he’s going, she takes his hand, says, “come on, let me take you home.”

Not having the strength to act as if he’ll be fine on his own, Timmy follows her out of the airport, snot and tears smeared all over his face. It would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t feel anything but longing and pain.

He doesn’t really remember the car ride, just that Saoirse had asked him for his address.

What he does remember, is walking into his apartment, which looked exactly as they had left it. One of Armies jackets still hanging on the rack. The dishes from their breakfast still standing on the coffee table, his bed unmade from when they’d woken together. The way Armies clutter had somehow made its way from his own apartment and into Timmy’s. He hadn’t noticed before, but now it was all he could see.

Watching Timmy standing there, looking lost and ready to cry again, Saoirse pushed him down on the couch and made quick work of removing plates and half empty coffee cups.

“Where do you keep your tea?” She asked, popping her head into the living room.

“Uh, cabinet closest to the fridge, top shelve,” Timmy sniffled, kicking off his shoes, curling up in the corner of the couch.

Coming back into the living room, Saoirse hands Timmy a steaming cup of tea, sitting down next to him. “Alright, here’s the plan,” she says. “We’re going to just sit on this couch for the rest of the day, and we’re gonna talk, and when we need a break from the talking, we’re gonna watch a _fun_ movie, and when that fails to do the job, we’re gonna cry and eat ice cream until we pass out. Today we cry, tomorrow we get back up.”

Timmy had honestly though he’d just stay in bed the whole day, but maybe this was an even better idea. It was comforting, knowing that he’d made a friend who was in the same situation as himself.

Sipping his tea, he looks at Saoirse. “Thank you.”

Smiling back, she pats his knee, says, “hey, you’re not the only one needing comfort right now.”

Halfway into _“Get Smart,”_ Timmy asks Saoirse, “how do you keep so calm about the whole thing?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Fiddling with his shirt sleeves, Timmy shrugs. “I mean, I’m just a big mess over here, and you’re just… not. Like, how do you do that?”

Pausing the movie, Saoirse turns her body towards Timmy, stays quiet for a second. “First of all, I think part of it may be because I’ve been here before. Nick’s left before, he came home every time, and I got through it every time. Second of all, I think that maybe it’s because I’ve been out there myself? Like, I’m able to picture the camps, the everyday lives they have, and I know that they know what they’re doing. But just because I’m not like, worrying on the outside, doesn’t mean I’m fine on the inside. I’ve just learned how to deal with it.”

Still looking down, Timmy nods his head. “But like, aren’t you afraid that- that, this time they won’t… come home?” he asks, voice getting thinner towards the end.

Pursing her lips, Saoirse considers what she’s about to say next. “Look, Timmy. No one can promise you that that won’t happen. But this is what they want to do with their lives, and when choosing to be with them, we have automatically signed ourself up to dealing with the uncertainty. Our job is to support them no matter what they encounter out there, no matter how many times they want to go back.”

Wiping at the stray tear on his cheek, Timmy sucks in a breath. “I do. Support him, that is. I even… uh, I wrote him a letter, placed it in his bag. Told him that I’m proud of him. Thought that if he ever like, needed me out there, he’d have that.” Laughing nervously, he looks up at Saoirse who’s smiling at him, eyes soft with kindness.

“I think he’s going to be very happy when he finds it,” she says.

They sit in silence for a while, both of them deep in thought.

“The first time Nick got deployed and I stayed behind, I was a lot like you,” Saoirse says, breaking the silence. “I didn’t cope very well, spend months going to work just to come home to an empty apartment, worrying myself halfway into depression.”

“Yeah? What changed?”

“I found this website for people who had loved ones in the army. Found out I wasn’t alone, that I could take control of the situation.”

“How?”

“I sat down and made a list of all the things I loved doing. All the things Nick doesn’t enjoy as much as I do. Then I made sure to put them into my schedule. That way, I always had something to look forward to during his deployment. And it worked, because suddenly, those months weren’t just about waiting anymore, they were about me finding purpose too.”

It makes sense, Timmy supposes. Knows that he should probably take her advice and do the same thing himself. But, like, how is he supposed to do that? He doesn’t do well in big groups of people and his favorite activity usually revolves around books and solitude.

Later, he tells himself. Right now, he’ll allow himself to wallow in the longing.

Saoirse ends up spending the night on his couch. And if she hears Timmy’s sobs as he curls himself around Armies black hoodie, she doesn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's for reading!  
> I hope you liked it? Let me in know in the comments <3


	4. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To be frank, I’m more worried about you these days than I am about my son. Have you even slept lately? Eaten enough? Hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because next week's schedule is going to be ridiculously tight.   
> I feel like this might've ended up in a bit of a ramble, sorry about that.   
> Anyway, as always, thanks for being here and enjoy <3

Standing in his kitchen, Timmy is in the middle of doing the dishes from his lunch.

The radio is on but turned low. It’s one of those days where he can’t stand the silence, but at the same time can’t stand all the noises from the world around him. His thoughts are too loud today and it’s taking a lot of energy drowning them out.

Starring out the window while drying plates and cutlery, he thinks back on the past two months.

The first week after Armies departure had been awful, and he tries not to think too much about it.

He doesn’t know how he made it through, but to be honest it had probably been because of Saoirse. The two of them had spent a lot of time together the past two months, and Timmy had started thinking about her as one of his closest friends. If not the closest. Before, he’d had enough in his family, the handful of people he still talked to from high school and the girls from his study group. But none of them had ever been as close to him as Saoirse had become. He was truly grateful to have her.

Another bright spot in the first week had come on Sunday morning. Timmy had been sitting in his kitchen, starring at his coffee when his phone rang.

Jumping in his seat, he’d been pulled out of his thoughts. There hadn’t been any caller ID, just a foreign number that defiantly we’ rent from the states. Heart in his throat, hands shaking, he had answered the call, his voice tight with nerves.

“Timmy?” Armies voice had crackled over the line. And Timmy had almost cried right there, as he sat back down on his chair, knees shaking.

“Armie? Is it you?” he’d asked, needing to be sure. And Armie had laughed, had said “yeah it’s me baby. Were you expecting someone else?” That had made Timmy sniffle, wipe his nose with the sleeve of Armies sweater. “Shut up. I miss you.”

“I miss you too baby. I uh, I found your letter”

Blushing, Timmy had looked down at the floor, as if Armie was able to see him.

“Oh. I know it’s cheesy, it’s like, whate-”

“It’s perfect. I’ve been re-reading it every night since I got here”

“Yeah?” this time, Timmy had smiled, his voice sounding hopeful .

“Yeah. Now tell me what you’re doing right now.”

And Timmy had told him about his morning, about the weather, about class yesterday. He’d told him about him and Saoirse spending time together, which had made Armie hum in delight. He’d also told him about his plans to have dinner with Armies parents that evening.

In return, Armie told him about the food at camp, about the weather, about patrolling streets and handing out candy to kids, which had made Timmy’s heart soar with pride.

That day, Timmy had felt twenty pounds lighter and when he sat down at the dinner table with Abigail and William, he’d told them that Armie had called, that he was alright. It had been a nice day.

Three weeks into Armies deployment, it had been his mother calling. He’d been on edge all day, constantly checking his phone for missed calls. He hadn’t spoken to Armie for eight days, and the anxiety had started to get to his head. So, the sound of his phone blaring had made him jump, his heart plummeting when he saw that it wasn’t Armie.

It wasn’t unusual for his parents to call him, they made sure to catch up regularly.

His mothers voice had made him feel better, and he’d blushed and felt just about seven years younger when she’d said, “Pauline told me that you’ve been seeing someone. Is he worth telling you mother about?” And so, he’d told her about Armie. How he made Timmy feel like the only man in the world but leaving out the fact that his job included going off to war zones. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his family to know, he’d just felt like in that moment, he could act as if it wasn’t the case. 

Hearing the lock in his door turning, Timmy is pulled out his thoughts. He already knows who it is (he’d given Saoirse a spare key after the first week, figured it was easier that way since the two of them spend most of their free time together anyway.)

Hearing her voice calling out a, “hello!” he puts down the tea towel, turns around just in time for Saoirse to give him a quick hug before pouring herself a glass of water. Leaning back against the counter, Timmy squints his eyes, tries to decipher what is going on. She looks on edge, her fingers taping the glass in a restless rhythm. Biting her lip in a way she doesn’t usually do, Timmy knows that she’s nervous about something.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

Clearing her throat, she looks down, taps her foot, looks back up again. “I think I might be pregnant,” she blurts. Timmy feels his eyes going wide, excitement blooming in his chest.

“What? How? What?”

“Well, I think we both know _how,_ ” she says, smirking at Timmy who rolls his eyes back at her.

“It’s just, I’ve been exhausted for weeks and for the past two days I’ve felt nauseous all the god damned time”

“Shit. Sersh, that defiantly sounds like pregnant to me.”

“Or like the flu,” she mutters.

“Well, you have to find out. Come on, we’re getting a test right now.” Turning on his heal, Timmy is already halfway into the hallway when Saoirse says, “I’ve already bought two. They’re in my bag.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Come on!”

Ten minutes later, Saoirse is sitting on the toilet lid, Timmy on the bathroom floor as they’re waiting for the next five minutes to pass.

“What if I _am_ pregnant?” she asks, biting her nails.

“Then you’re going to be a mom. Stop doing that, you’re ruining your nails” Timmy says, pulling her hand away.

“What if… what if Nick isn’t ready? What if-,”

“Do you even listen to yourself? Nick loves you, and you’ve been together for what? Five years? It’s going to fine.”

Bouncing her leg again, Saoirse just shrugs, looks down at her bitten nails.

“Time’s up. You want me to look for you?”

Getting a nod in return, Timmy picks up the pregnancy test.

“Fuck me,” he mutters. Then, he squeals, waves the test in front of Saoirse, says, “congratulations mommy!”

“What? Are you sure?” Looking at the positive test in her hand, Saoirse lets out a wet laugh of surprise, before being engulfed in a tight hug, dark curls soaking up her happy tears.

An hour and one more positive pregnancy test later, Timmy is sitting on his couch, Saoirse’s head in his lap.

“Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?” he asks.

“How would I know?” she laughs back.

“Maybe some sixth sense or something,” he shrugs. “Wait, how far along are you?”

“Uhm, I guess, at least two months? I should probably get an appointment at the clinic to be sure”

“Yeah”

They’re both silent for a moment, Timmy looking at Saoirse. She still fiddles with her hands, biting her lip.

“You want me to go with you?”

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

* * *

On Sunday evening, Timmy is helping Abigail prepare a pie for dessert later that night. He feels exhausted and distraught. He knows that he isn’t doing well, and he blames himself for that. Blames himself for missing Armie all the time, for not being present when he’s with other people, for staying up at night, starring at the picture of smiling Armie he found the day they’d cut Armies hair. He blames himself for not trying hard enough, for letting Armie down. And apparently, he doesn’t just feel like shit, but must look it too, because Abigail puts down her oven mitts and looks at him, concern written all over her face.

“How are you holding up, sweetie?”

Feeling his emotions reaching the surface, Timmy steals himself, tries to smile and says, “It’s alright. I just miss him a little.” It had been stupid of him to say the last few words, because it immediately made him choke up, unshed tears making his vision blurry.

Abigail just looks at him, face pulled in a frown, while Timmy tries to get ahold of himself.

Pushing away from the counter she says, “You know, I think it’s time to bring those baby photos forward.”

It helps, actually. Whether it’s the stories about how Armie always managed to disappear from the surface of earth in a matter of seconds, or the pictures of small blonde Armie fishing with his dad, Timmy doesn’t know. It might just be the fact that he gets to talk about his boyfriend with someone who knows how it feels to love him unconditionally.

“It’s alright to miss him, Timmy. Believe me, I miss him too,” Abigail says, making Timmy look at her. “But if the last three deployments have taught me anything, it’s that you need to keep the worry out of it. To be frank, I’m more worried about you these days than I am about my son. Have you even slept lately? Eaten enough? Hm?”

Feeling the quilt return, Timmy looks away. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder. You don’t have to worry, really,” he says, trying to look fine.

“I’m not blaming you, honey. I’m trying to help you. You’re family now, you know that, right?”

Letting out a teary chuckle, Timmy smiles for real this time when Abigail squeezes his hand.

“Whenever you find yourself spiraling down that hole, you have to pull yourself out of it. Otherwise you’ll lose yourself in the process.”

“You sound just like Saoirse, uh, Nicks girlfriend,” Timmy smiles.

“Yeah? What does she say?”

“That I should make plans for myself. Do something that I enjoy. She also says that I, uh.. that I should seek help if it doesn’t get better.”

“And have you? Done any of those things?”

Shrugging, Timmy worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve been spending a lot of time studying and hanging out with her.”

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Abigail stands, walks out of the living room. Returning a moment later, she hands Timmy a small piece of paper. “This is the number of the psychologist I spoke to the first time Armie went out there. She’s specialized in helping relatives to those deployed. You should give her a call tomorrow.”

Monday morning Timmy calls the number. Almost talks himself out of it, because how is she supposed to help him? She can’t bring Armie home anyway, and he doesn’t really feel like being judged by a stranger. Specialized or not. But then, he looks at Armies picture, and remembers his words. “ _You can, and you will. For me, yeah?”_

So, yeah. He calls the number all the while feeling like he’s about to throw up. He defiantly needs to get better at asking for help.

* * *

On Friday, it’s Saoirse who looks like she’s about to throw up. They’re sitting in the waiting room at the clinic, waiting for the OB/GYN to call her name.

It’s her first scan of the baby, and Timmy has spent the whole morning reassuring her that the baby is fine, that it’s normal to be anxious about these things. It makes him feel good that finaly, he’s the one comforting her, not the other way around.

Just as Timmy had been saying all morning, the baby is perfectly fine. It’s a little awkward when the nurse refers to Timmy as the father, making Saoirse exclaim, “what? No, he’s my gay best friend!” And while it makes Timmy feel momentarily uncomfortable, it also makes him happy. Best friend? He doesn’t think he’s had one of those since preschool.

Having estimated the due date to the end of February next year, Timmy and Saoirse make their way out on the street.

“What did Nick say by the way? Isn’t he excited?” Timmy asks, zipping up his jacket.

Looking busy with her phone, Saoirse answers, “uh, yeah”

“Sersh.”

“Mh-hmm?”

Then, it dawns on Timmy that Nick doesn’t know yet.

“Oh my god, you haven’t told him?” He blurts, completely bewildered.

“No. And I’m not going to until he’s back.” She says, sounding dead serious.

“What? Why?”

“Because he doesn’t need distractions down there! Because he doesn’t need to worry about me _and_ a fetus that isn’t even three months old yet,” she exclaims, clearly shaken up about the mater.

“Just because you just found out doesn’t make it any less real? And what if he doesn’t make it home? Are you seriously going to keep him in the dark about his own child?” Timmy asks, his voice sound shocked.

“Yes, I am. At least until he’s here. It’s my decision to make, Timmy.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can live with that. Now, are you coming or what?”

Timmy suddenly feels angry. Angry on behalf of Nick, angry on behalf of himself. Saoirse was supposed to be the sane one of them, and now she’s making decisions based on Nick possibly not coming back? It scares him, but instead of feeling anxious, he feels pissed.

“No, I uhm, I’ve got a thing. Tonight. It’s the study group, I uh, I’ll see you around?” he says, already walking backwards before turning around, rushing down the street.

That night, he decides to actually join his study group when they ask him if he wants to go out for drinks. He doesn’t particularly feel like it, but the next time someone asks him what he does in order to deal with this whole shit-show, he wants to be able to say that he _tries._

At least, he thinks to himself, he can’t hear his own thoughts over the dance music blasting through the speakers in the club.

Sitting at the bar, watching Emily and Sofia from his study group at the dancefloor, he feels the presence of someone behind him. Turning around, he is face to face with a dark haired guy. He’s slightly more build than Timmy, probably not much taller. Timmy thinks he looks plain.

The guy places his hand on Timmy’s shoulder as he leans in to drown out the music, says, “can I buy you a drink?” and Timmy feels completely mortified. The hand on his shoulder has moved down his arm, and the guy has barely pulled his face away, his breath hitting Timmy’s cheek.

“Uh, I’m good, thank you,” he stammers.

“Yeah? Good to go, or?” the guy asks, winking at Timmy as he jerks his head towards the bathrooms. Feeling panic turning in to something bolder, Timmy shrugs off the guy, spits out, “get off of me, dude,” before he makes his way the girls, makes up an excuse about a headache and hurries home.

So much for feeling better.

It’s not even midnight when he walks back into his apartment.

Standing in his kitchen, all the lights turned off, Timmy sips a glass of water when his phone starts ringing on the coffee table. Almost tripping over his feet, he snatches up the device, breathes, “hello?” just to hear Armies chuckle on the other side.

“Someone’s eager,” he laughs.

“I didn’t want to miss your call,” Timmy pouts, already feeling better.

“You must be up early. Isn’t it, like seven over there or something?”

“Yeah, we’re heading out early today,” Armie says. Timmy never really asks about _where to,_ or _why,_ when Armie talks about assignments. Prefers to be totally ignorant on the subject.

“Mhm,” Timmy mumbles, sinking into his couch.

“Anyway, we’re waiting for a truck to be loaded before we’re ready to go, so I thought I’d spent the time waiting, talking to my favorite Timmy-“ Timmy smiles, “but I wasn’t sure you’d still be awake.”

“Oh, I just came home. I uh, I went out with the study group.”

“You actually went this time?” Armies laugh is fond, and it makes Timmy feel warm and good.

“Shut up,” Timmy mumbles.

“Sorry babe. Did you have fun, though?” There’s something about Armies voice. Maybe it’s because he’d just woken up, maybe it’s the absence and the alcohol, but for the first time in weeks, Timmy feels something stirring in his groin.

“It was fine. But I don’t think it’s really what I _needed_ tonight,” Timmy says, voice dropping a little lower.

“No? what do you need Tim?”

Sighing, Timmy pops open the button on his jeans, his eyes rolling back as he slides his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

“I need _you_ , Armie,” while his voice does nothing to hide the state of his arousal, the whimper he lets out just downright reveals it. There’s something rustling on the other end of the line, and it sounds like Armie is moving, before his voice is back.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself baby?”

Pushing his pants down midthigh, Timmy moans as he starts working himself in long, slow strokes.

“Uh-huh,” he whimpers.

“Shit,” Armie breathes, sounding just as turned on as Timmy feels. The picture of Armie dressed in his uniform, his cock straining against his pants makes Timmy’s cock ooze with pre come, his mouth running.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about sweetie,” Armie pleads.

“I’m thinking about-,” moan, “about your cock inside of me, how tight I’m going to be for you when you come home,”

“God, Timmy you’re killing me. Do you miss my cock baby?”

“Yes, Armie, I want it so bad. Want it in my mouth and in my hole, want to feel your come running out of me,” he pants, cutting himself off with a moan as his hand speeds up, his orgasm building.

“My sweet, sweet boy. Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes, please, Armie, please.”

“Yes, that’s it baby, come for me, let me hear you.”

Armies words are the last push Timmy needs as he tumbles over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him in waves that makes his vision go black, until he comes back to his senses.

“Fuck, Timmy,” Armie laughs, voice still heavy with want.

“Uh, sorry,” Timmy mumbles, slightly embarrassed when he looks down at himself, come all over his shirt.

“No, no, no don’t apologize, that was fucking hot. Exactly what I needed baby,” Armie praises.

“Wait, did you come?”

Clearing his throat, Armie says, “no, I don’t really have that much privacy. But you still made me feel really good.”

Timmy just sits there, smiling to himself, feeling full of love.

“Listen baby, I gotta go. I can’t promise when I’ll call again, but as soon as I can, I will. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“I love you baby.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

Saturday is spent having brunch with Saoirse, apologizing for having lashed at her the day before.

“Yeah? Did you have fun?” She answers Timmy, taking a bite of her pancake

“Honestly? No. It was loud and there was this douche bag hitting on me. I was home again by eleven thirty”

Laughing, Saoirse reaches over and ruffles Timmy’s hair. “Of course, you were.”

Clearing her throat, she looks at Timmy, a serious expression on her face. “I know that Nick deserves to know as soon as possible. But, I just can’t help but think that… that I’ll jinx the whole thing,” she says, eyes tearing up, bottom lip trembling.

“What? No, you won’t, I, oh come here,” Timmy says, getting up and pulling her into a hug.

“You won’t, you hear me?”

“I’m just so happy, because this is what I’ve always wanted, but what he doesn’t? what if he thinks that, that I did on purpose to, I don’t know, keep him home, or like,-” she hiccups.

“Whaat? Oh honey, I think he’ll be ecstatic. It’s pretty fucking clear how much he loves you. Just tell him, I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“Alright. Alright,” she sniffles, pulling back to dry her eyes.

* * *

Two weeks later, Timmy had had flown to France in time for Isabelle’s third birthday.

It had probably been one of the things he’d been looking most forward to (aside from Armie coming home,) and the moment he’d had his family’s arms around him, he’d almost felt whole again. That is, until Pauline had said, “you didn’t bring Armie?” and his smile had faltered.

“What? Is something wrong? I thought-,” and Timmy had almost pleaded with her to just drop the matter until they were home.

When they’d made it home to his parent’s apartment, they’d all crowded around each other on the couch, Timmy squeezed in the middle with his mother on one side, Pauline on the other and Isabelle in his lap.

“You know you can tell us anything, darling”, his mother had said, brushing his curls behind his ears.

“We’re fine, mom. It’s nothing like that. It’s his job-,” “if he’s just busy, then why do look like so-,”

“Let your brother finish, Pauline,” his father, sitting in the armchair had mumbled.

Pulling in a deep breath and hugging Isabelle closer, he’d told them. “He’s in Syria. Deployed for five months.”

“As in the army?” Pauline asks

“Mhhmm,” he’d mumbled, closing his eyes.

“When did he leave?” this time, it was his mother.

“Uh… July 23rd. He’ll be back in two and half months, on December 23rd” Sniffling, he turns his face into Isabelle’s hair.

“Mommy, why is uncle Timmy crying?” Isabelle asks, placing her small hand on Timmy’s cheek.

“Because he misses someone he loves, honey. It’s alright to cry when you miss someone, remember?”

Looking up at Timmy, a sad frown on her face, she’d wrapped her small arms around his neck, said, “it’s okay, uncle Timmy. I’ve got you.”

That had made them all chuckle, hugging Timmy even closer for the rest of the day. Maybe he’d underestimated the wonders of being home, but the pain was almost bearable right there, in the safe confines of his family.

The rest of his stay had been spent celebrating Isabelle, sightseeing in Paris and staying up late, talking with his parents and Pauline, who insisted on seeing pictures of Armie, asking how they’d met, if he treated Timmy nicely.

One night, when Isabelle was asleep and they’d opened a bottle of wine, Timmy had gotten a call from Armie. He’d felt slightly embarrassed when they’d told him to, “put him on speaker Timmy! We want to say hi!”

Having done so, Timmy regretted nothing. Armie had been a charm, had said that he was sorry he couldn’t be there, but “ _hopefully next time, yeah?_ ”

Timmy had almost melted in his seat.

* * *

On October 24th, Timmy came home from a long day of classes. The weather outside was a pretty good representation of his state of mind. Cold, grey and uncomfortable.

He felt cold all the way through, his body tired and brain on overdrive. He’d spent the whole day trying to drown out the noise in his head and ignore the growing belly ache that had started the moment he’d woken up. It had started when he’d realized that the latest sweater he’d picked up from Armies, didn’t smell like Armie any longer. Instead of being rational about it (it happened to all of the sweaters, he could go and pick up a new one,) he’d started crying. His vision blurry the whole morning until he’d pulled himself together and stayed hidden in the back of the auditorium for the rest of the day. At noon he was borderline angry. Why the fuck did he have to go through this? Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone with a boring 9 to 5 job?

Why had he even fallen for Armie?

The instant he’d let that thought enter his mind, he’d stormed off to the nearest bathroom stall, where he’d pulled out Armies picture, whispered “ _I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean that,_ ” over and over until he’d calmed down and went to his last class.

The rest of the day had just been a heavy feeling of longing. He felt like he was back to square one.

Coming home, he’d turned on the TV and cleaned the whole apartment, even though he didn’t need to. Then, he’d done all of his laundry, changing the sheets on his bed. Had folded Armies clothes neatly and placed it inside his closet. When he couldn’t ignore his rumbling stomach anymore, he’d cooked dinner and sat down on his couch, staring blindly at the TV while eating.

Just when he was about to take his plate back to the kitchen, he heard the news reporter starting to talk about _Aleppo, Syria._ Sitting back down, he’d turned up the volume, his legs bouncing as he started biting the nail on his thumb. Listening to the man going on and on about how the situation was getting worse, how more and more people started fleeing, did nothing to calm Timmy down. Ultimately, he remembered how his psychologist had specifically told him not to seek information about these things in the media and turned off the TV.

Armie hadn’t called that day, and when Timmy had convinced himself that he wasn’t going to for the rest of the day, he’d gone to bed.

Two hours later, he woke up in a sweat to himself screaming Armies name. Scrambling around the bed, fumbling for the light switch, he’d sad in bed, feeling tears spilling over. Getting up, he’d checked his phone. No missed calls. Walking to the front door, he checked the peeping hole. No one there. Placing a hand over his beating heard, he’d spoken out loud to himself.

_Calm down. It was just a nightmare. Armie is fine._

Pulling on the hoodie with the big A on the front, he’d crawled back into bed, put on his meditation app and fallen asleep with Armies photo in his hands.

Eight weeks and four days left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that the boys are better when they're together. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! It means the world to me <3


	5. A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were only halfway through Armies deployment, and Timmy couldn’t take it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who's been with me on this one so far, it's means a lot!

That night had been the turning point for Timmy. He’d realized that he’d hit the bottom. 

They were only halfway through Armies deployment, and Timmy couldn’t take it anymore. It was the morning after, when he’d caught himself turning the news channel to an obnoxiously loud volume in order to be able to hear it from the shower, his phone laying on top of his towel on the toilet lid, silence mode off. When he’d stood inside the shower, water running down his body, he’d realized that he wouldn’t be able to hear if the buzzer to his apartment went off, if someone knocked on his door. His immediate reaction had been to speed up his routine. Then, realization hit him, square in the face. His anxiety had developed into something so big; he no longer had a say in his own life. Standing completely still, hands soaping up his hair, he’d realized;

There was a _feeling_ controlling him, every moment of every day, and it was turning him into someone he could barely recognize.

Stepping out of the shower, drying off his hands on the towel, he’d resolutely walked into the living room, stark naked and turned off the TV. Then, he’d turned his phone back on silent and played the loudest rap playlist he could find and spend on the good side of thirty minutes standing under the hot water.

Later that day, he’d been able to get an emergency appointment with his physiologist.

Sitting in front of her, Timmy had hunched his shoulders forward, hands squished beneath his thighs in order to stop fidgeting.

“This morning, I realized that I am no longer the one controlling my anxiety. It’s the one controlling me,” he said.

Leaning back in her seat, Marie had put down her pen and notepad.

“What made you realize that?”

Pulling his hands out from his thighs, Timmy started pulling absentmindedly at his fingers. “I’m no longer enjoying the things I used to, because I’m too busy constantly waiting for someone to tell me that Armie is dead.”

“How did you feel when you realized that?”

Biting his thumb, Timmy thought for a second.

“Angry… mostly. A little scared. Not because of him, but because of me.” Then, looking down, “I think… I think there’s a bigger chance of me losing myself, than me losing him.”

Leaning slightly forward, legs uncrossing, Marie answered. “To me, it sounds like you’ve gained a lot of insight. That is the key ingredient in getting better and you should be very proud of yourself. I take it, since you’re here today, you’re ready to take that control back?”

Blowing out a deep breath, Timmy nodded his head, raking a hand through his hair.

“There’s something I want you to remember, always, every second of the day,” Marie continues, “the only thing you can take control of, is yourself. That means, whatever happens out there, to Armie, to anyone really, is out of your hands. You can only take responsibility for yourself.”

Looking Timmy straight in the eye, she leans further forward, leaning her elbows on her knees.

“Stop listening out for bad news that most probably won’t be coming. If the right people need to talk to you, they won’t stop trying until they’ve reached you and delivered whatever information is necessary. Until then, you can safely tune out the rest of the noise.”

Starring at the floor, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Timmy tightens his arms around himself. She’s right, and deep-down Timmy knows this, has probably known from the beginning, and yet…

_“_ What is holding you back, Timothée?”

Letting go of himself, Timmy tells the truth. “I can’t help but feel like I’m abandoning him. That it’ll seem as if I don’t care anymore.”

“What about that would make you seem as if you don’t care?”

“It’s just… I guess I feel like the only way that I can be there for him when he’s gone, is by worrying about him. Does that even make sense? And what if, what if he’s out there, badly hurt, and I’m here, doing stupid shit instead of, instead of….”

“Instead of what?” Marie prompts.

Timmy shrugs. “Instead of thinking about him”

“In your scenario, how would you sitting at home, going crazy with worry, help Armie _?”_

“I don’t know,” Timmy says, shrugging his shoulders again.

Rearranging herself, Marie folds her hands in her lap.

“Let’s try some other scenarios. If Armie came home hurt, do you think he would benefit more from you being completely broken, or you being strong and clear headed?”

Inspecting his fingernails, Timmy answers without a second thought. _“_ He’d need me to be strong”

Tilting her head, Marie bluntly asks her next question.

“And what if Armie actually did die out there? Would you rather have spent your last time together worrying or enjoying each other, apart or not?”

Ignoring the sting her words leave in his chest, Timmy answers, “enjoying each other.”

Then, remembering, Timmy ponders his next words for a second, before saying,

“just before he left, he gave me a free pass to… be with other people while he was gone. He said he forgave me if I couldn’t get what I needed from him while he was gone.”

Looking at Timmy, Marie nods, asks him, “how did that make you feel?”

This, Timmy doesn’t need to think through, has already spent weeks going over it in his head.

_“_ Angry. Not so much at him, but at myself for making him feel like he needed to say that.”

_“_ Do you think there’s a possibility, that you’re trying to prove something by feeling awful?” Marie asks, voice going softer. 

“I… yeah, maybe. It just made me so frustrated that he would ever think that, that- like, I feel sick just talking about it right now.”

_“_ How do you think he felt about saying it?”

Remembering Armies dull eyes, face determined, his voice almost perfectly neutralized, Timmy answers, “bad. I could see it in his eyes. He looked like it was killing him.”

Keeping quiet for a moment, Marie crosses her legs again, lets a small, reassuring smile appear at the corner of her mouth. “Alright, listen Timothée. From my perspective, it looks like you’d both go to extreme lengths for each other, even if by doing that, you’re violating your own boundaries. Now, what if I told you, that right now, you, taking care of yourself, putting yourself first, is the best way to look out for Armie?”

It had resonated deeply within Timmy and made him realize that maybe, by spiraling out of control like this, he was doing more damage than good. It had been exactly what he needed to hear.

Coming home that day, Timmy had found a stack of post it notes and written down reminders to himself, which he’d placed all around the apartment.

On his bathroom mirror: “ _You decide how important a feeling is_ ”

On his fridge: “ _No one controls you but you_ ”

On his nightstand: “ _The rest is noise_ ”

Inside his book: “ _You should be proud of yourself_ ”

Rummaging through the clutter in his kitchen drawer, he’d found his iPod. Then, he’d gone out for a run, breathing in the crisp autumn air, feeling the warm rays of sunshine hitting his face. He’d felt as if he could finally move and feel his body again.

One month later, Timmy had made a progress he never thought possible.

He’d looked out for the triggers that made him spiral, and noticed that whenever he started feeling restless, even the slightest bit, he needed to get up and move his body. So, he’d started running every afternoon after class. On Monday and Thursday, he’d signed himself up for a yoga class and every night he’d meditate for twenty minutes before going to bed.

The running helped him with the restlessness. When he felt angry and frustrated, he could stomp it out of his system. When he felt sad or anxious, he could focus on the air filling his lungs, the sun hitting his face.

The yoga and meditation helped him release all of his tension, grounding him as he zoomed in on himself, shutting out the noise of his own brain and the outside world.

His therapy sessions were improving too. Whenever he felt himself start to wobble and lose his balance, Marie would be there to steady him.

He had a feeling that the improvement he had been making, were making it easier on the people around him too. Saoirse no longer had to function as his mental support any longer, and Abigail had even smiled at him like a proud mom one Sunday, stating “you look so much better!”

Sometimes he felt like it was constant hard work, but in the end, he felt proud of himself.

The biggest pay off however, was how much lighter his conversations with Armie had gotten.

He no longer felt anxious when they hung up, no longer strained his ears to listen for signs that Armie wasn’t alright.

One time, he’d even missed one of his calls. He’d almost panicked when he realized that he couldn’t call him back. Catching himself before it was too late, he’d gone for his afternoon run.

Later that night, when Armie had tried him again, Armie had sounded far from disappointed. He had just sounded happy and proud when Timmy had told him that he’d been out for coffee with some people from school.

Keeping busy was one of his mantras, because he knew that being alone with his thoughts usually triggered him into spiraling. So, when he wasn’t studying with his study group (which, now he showed up every time they’d meet up, because it kept him distracted) or hanging out with Will (one of the few guys from high school he’d kept in touch with), he was either spending time with Saoirse or Abigail and William.

One weekend, he’d spend all of Saturday and Sunday helping Abigail preparing her garden for the oncoming winter. He’d been out cold as soon as he made it to his bed, but he enjoyed it a lot.

_Maybe, at some point, he and Armie would have their own garden._ Timmy had felt giddy at the thought, and when he’d realized that he’d managed to think about his and Armies future without worrying, he’d given himself a mental pat on the back.

Another day, he’d gone fishing with William. To be honest, he’d been worried about that one.

He’d never gone fishing before. What if fucked he it up? What if they didn’t know what to talk about? What if he couldn’t handle the silence, the quiet?

He’d gone anyway. Had stood in front of the bathroom mirror, sternly telling his own reflection, “You decide how big your feelings are allowed to grow. You can do this.”

It hadn’t been awkward, and the silence hadn’t been dangerous.

They hadn’t spoken much, but Timmy had felt like that was more due to both of them enjoying the silence than lacking topics to talk about.

At one point, William had looked at Timmy, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You make my son smile in a way I haven’t seen him do before. I don’t think I can thank you enough for that.”

Timmy had swallowed, watching the completely still water. “It’s me, who’s grateful.”

Then, William had nodded his head, and they had stood in comfortable silence for the rest of the morning.

That night, Armie had called him when he was in bed, reading.

“Tell me about your day.”

Putting the book away, Timmy had scooted further into the bed, turning onto his side and spoken in a hushed voice. “Uh, let me see. I went fishing with your dad. Then, we had lunch with your mom before I went back home. Then I went for a run, stocked up the fridge and had dinner. Now I’m in bed, reading.”

“You went fishing with my dad?” Armie had asked, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, it was really nice. Didn’t catch anything though. But the weather was nice, it was so quiet.”

“Will you take me when I get back?” Timmy thought he recognized the sound of longing in Armies hushed voiced.

“What, fishing?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Anything you want.”

The air had changed, the static between them filled with the need of two lovers being separated. This time, Timmy didn’t feel scared, didn’t feel like crying. No, this time, he found piece in the fact that not even months of being half a world apart could change the love they held for each other. Breaking the silence, Armie cleared his throat, asked, “hey, how’s that yoga class going by the way?”

Timmy had snorted, a giggle escaping him as he rolled his eyes. “Of course, you’d ask that!”

Teasing, Armie had exclaimed in the most innocent voice he could muster, “whaaat? Can’t a man ask his boyfriend about his new hobby?”

“You could’ve asked about running or meditation too,” Timmy had pointed out, laughing.

“Yeah, but those don’t involve you stretching and bending and… stuff”

Timmy had closed his eyes and let the warm voice of Armie envelope him, as blue eyes with small wrinkles at the side and broad smiles came alive behind his eyelids.

* * *

By the time December 1st came around, Timmy felt like he’d finally adjusted.

He felt like he could breathe again, like he would make it.

Hanging on his fridge, beside his motivational poster, was a new piece of paper. When there had been four weeks left of Armies deployment, he’d drawn thirty small boxes, and every morning he would check one off.

Today, there was only twenty-two boxes left.

Turning up the radio, he’d danced his way through breakfast, a huge smile spreading on his lips as he walked up to Saoirse who stood waiting outside the baby store. Throwing his arm around her waist as he bent down to place a smooching kiss on her cheek, she’d given him a look, laughed out. “Someone’s happy today!”

“It’s the first day of Christmas-month, why wouldn’t I be?” Timmy had asked, smile still lighting up his face.

“And here I was, thinking it had something to do with our boys coming home soon,” she’d sighed .

“That too,” Timmy had said, winking at her as he held open the door for her.

“How many onesies do you think we’ll need?” Saoirse had asked Timmy, when he’d walked up to her, at least fifteen onesies in his hands, all in various prints and colors.

“A _lot._ Do you even know how many times a day you’ll need to change these? And like, you won’t have time to do laundry twice a day.”

“How do you even know these things?” she’d asked, throwing a packet of pacifiers into the shopping cart.

“I have a niece,” Timmy had answered, already walking towards the shelves stocked with burp cloths. “Now for these, the same thing goes. You can’t have enough.”

By the time lunch came around, Saoirse had complained about how badly she wanted to have sushi, making Timmy look at her, an incredulous look on his face. “You’re pregnant, we’re not getting sushi.”

At last, they’d ended up at an Italian place, eating their own body weight in pasta.

Groaning, Saoirse had leaned back in her chair, placing a hand on her stomach.

“You alright?” Timmy had asked concerned.

“I think he’s having the hiccups,” she’d said, running her hand up and down her protruding stomach. “Wanna feel?”

Getting out of his chair, Timmy had placed both hands on her stomach, a smile lightning up his face as he felt the fluttering beneath his hands.

“Does that happen often?”

“Well, he mostly does it at night, when I’m trying to sleep,” Saoirse had chuckled.

Getting back into his chair, Timmy had pointed out, “you don’t even know if it’s a boy.”

“Well, I’ve got a pretty good feeling.”

“Yeah? Is that sixth sense finally kicking in?” Timmy had laughed, dicking back into his pasta as Saoirse had snorted, smiling back at him.

* * *

“Can you believe they’re having a baby?” Timmy had asked that night, his phone held in place between his cheek and the pillow.

“I know, it’s amazing. I mean, Nick has been a fucking show off ever since he got the news. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited.” Armie had answered.

Sighing, Timmy turned on his back. “They’re going to be such good parents.”

“Yeah… “ Armie had said, trailing off, before asking quietly, “you think that’ll ever be you and me?”

“What, kids?”

“Yeah,” Armie had answered, almost sounding shy.

Feeling his heart jump in excitement, Timmy had smiled and said, “I… I’ve been thinking about it, but I didn’t know about you. Do you want kids?”

“I want everything with you,” Armie had breathed, as if it was the easiest thing he’d ever said in his life, effectively making Timmy melt into a puddle of giddiness and warmth.

* * *

A week later, Timmy had been sitting on his couch, watching a movie when Armie had called. It had been a particularly cold day, but the sun had been out, and Timmy’s mood had been in high spirits ever since he counted the empty boxes on his paper that morning.

Fifteen more days, and Armie would be sitting across from him, sipping his morning coffee.

“What do you most look forward to, coming home?” Timmy had asked, looking out the window as the last rays of afternoon sunshine lit up the street.

“My bed,” Armie had laughed. “And the cold… the Christmas lights. Seeing your smile again. Being able to hold your hand when I fall asleep.”

Smiling, Timmy fiddled with his sleeve on his sweater. “I’ll cook for your favorite meal for you. Put on your favorite bed sheets. Oh, I’ve even found your Christmas present!” he’d exclaimed.

“Already?”

“Yeah. Plus, you still have your birthday present too, you know. Hey, do you think we can go to the beach on my birthday?” Timmy didn’t know why he’d asked that, hadn’t even thought about it before. But suddenly, all he wanted was to stand before the ocean with Armie by his side, feeling the brisk air hitting his face.

“The beach? Babe, you’re gonna freeze your tiny ass off!” Armie had argued, voice sounding surprised.

“You just said you missed the cold!”

Relenting immediately, Armie had said, “alright, alright, we’ll go to the beach.”

Closing his eyes again, Timmy had let the warm feeling of being in love consume him. Just hearing Armies voice felt like coming home. 

Breaking the silence, Timmy had murmured, “did you know that I love you?”

Sighing, Armie had chuckled. “I love you too, Timmy. Always.”

* * *

The next week is filled with finals and phone calls with his family, arranging for them to come to the states for Timmy’s birthday.

It’s not until Sunday, when Timmy checks off one more box and counts seven days left, that he realizes that Armie hasn’t called the whole week. Shaking it off, he heads out for an early run, leaving any worries or anxiety behind.

On Tuesday, Armie still hasn’t called.

Not wanting to worry Armies parents or Saoirse, Timmy doesn’t mention it to anyone. Tries to get through his day without dwelling on the unsettling feeling that _something is wrong._

On Thursday, Timmy counts the last boxes. Two days left. Takes in a deep breath, tells himself to calm down. In two days, Armie will be home, and Timmy will see for himself that he’s just being silly.

That week, his runs turns longer and more aggressive while he fights his brain in order to keep unwanted thoughts out.

On Friday, his mom calls him to tell him that they’ll be flying in on December 26th, and even though he tries, he doesn’t succeed in sounding fine.

“What’s on your mind honey?”

“Uh, nothing, just tired you know. Finals and all.” He says, biting his cheek in order not to cry.

“Finals ended a week ago, Timmy. What’s wrong?”

Felling the lump in his throat go so big it actually hurts, Timmy lets go of a shaky breath. “Mom… Armie hasn’t called me in almost two weeks,” he says, voice trembling with pent up feelings.

“Well, don’t you think he’s just been busy? You said he’d be home on Sunday, he’s probably just been wrapping things up, getting ready to come home. Don’t you think?” She’d asked, voice calm.

Wiping at a few stray tears, Timmy had counted to four, held his breath and breathed out slowly.

“Yeah, you’re right mom. It’s probably nothing,” he’d sniffled, nodding to himself, trying to put reason and logic up against the growing feeling in his gut.

On Saturday, he forces himself to get out of the apartment. He feels on edge though, and doesn’t want to be around people, doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle much more than his own thoughts. So, he goes for a long walk in the park, before he heads to the grocery store and stocks up for when Armie comes home. He doesn’t want to leave the apartment for at least twenty-four hours when he’s finally gotten Armie back in his arms.

By the time he’s on his way home, grocery backs in hand, he’s convinced himself that everything is fine. He’s probably just anxious because the thing that he’s been looking forward to for almost half a year is finally right around the corner.

What he hadn’t counted on, or prepared for really, was the sight that met him when he made it to his apartment.

Standing on top of the stairs, in front of the door to his apartment, is two men. Dressed in the exact uniforms he’s been fearing for the past five months.

Feeling his heart speed up, Timmy tries to breath. _They’re not here for you,_ he tells himself. Making his way up the stairs, heart in his throat, knees shaking, Timmy is just about ready to walk right past them, act as if he didn’t even see them.

When one of the officers turns around, looking down at Timmy who’s standing a couple of steps further down, Timmy tells himself, _there’s been a mistake. They’re probably just going to ask me if some other person lives in the same building._

“Timothée Chalamet?” One of the officers asks him.

_No,_ Timmy thinks. _No, no, no-no-no-no_.

Letting his grocery bags slip out of his hands, he croaks out, “Yes.”

It doesn’t come out as a question, because he knows why they’re here. Asking for him.

“I have been asked to inform you that your partner has been reported…”

Timmy doesn’t hear the rest, doesn’t need to. The ringing in his ears grow louder and louder, drowning out the words that he’s been so afraid to hear, and yet, are the ones being delivered to him right now. His breathing feels restricted, the cold winter air making his lungs burn. He feels as if the ground beneath him is shaking, crumbling his world into small, fragmented pieces. It doesn’t make sense. Armie is coming home tomorrow. Timmy is supposed to meet him at the airport, to take him home.

“… I extend to you and your family my deepest sympathy in your great loss.”

For a moment, Timmy feels as if the world is being turned upside down, spinning out of control, until everything stands still. Timmy’s world has come to a full stop around him.

“Can I go inside now?” He asks, voice completely void of feeling.

“Mr. Chalamet, we need to make sure that you’re alright to be on your own-,”

“I have some calls to make,” Timmy cuts him off as he grabs his grocery bags and walks past them, inside his apartment. 

Once inside his apartment, Timmy moves around in a fog. He doesn’t think, doesn’t hear the sounds of cars on the street, the neighbors moving around as if the crisis hasn’t yet reached them. He doesn’t feel a thing. He’s just an empty shell, walking around on autopilot, carefully putting away his groceries, folding the paper bags neatly before throwing them out. Looks at the paper on his fridge. Just one empty box left. Just one more night.

Then, he walks into his bedroom, where he makes his bed from this morning. Finding one of Armies sweatshirts that no longer smells of Armie, Timmy has the notion to think that he’ll need to get a new one.

While putting the old one away, he spots the white envelope with his name written in swirly letters, laying in the bottom of his drawer.

Grabbing the envelope and his keys, he walks out of of his apartment.

Looking back on this day, Timmy doesn’t remember how he made it from his apartment to Armies. Doesn’t remember locking himself in, hanging up his coat and placing his boots along the other ones already there.

What he does remember though, is standing in front of Armie closet, holding the last sweater left.

It’s then, that everything comes crashing down on him.

Armie isn’t coming back.

They won’t be going to the beach on his birthday.

There’s only one shirt left, and he can’t just get a new one.

Because Armie isn’t here anymore.

Feeling a sudden burst of overriding anger soar through his body, Timmy screams out in rage.

The pain starts eating away at him, licking through his body like burning white flames, clouding his vision as he chucks the sweatshirt across the room. They’d been so close to making it. They just needed one more day.

Tears running down his cheeks, everything tasting like salt, Timmy starts ripping every piece of clothing off the hangers, pulls out all of the drawers, until the only thing left is a uniform. The fabric is dark green and heavy, golden buttons, badges and medals adorning it.

It sets off a whole new set of tears, as Timmy hugs the piece of clothing to his chest, falling to his knees in the middle of the chaos surrounding him. He feels like he can’t breathe, as if his lungs and throat has gone raw, heaving sobs and chokes forcing themselves out of his chest.

As sobs rake through his body, tears making it impossible to see anything, Timmy mourns the loss of his boyfriend.

No, not just his boyfriend. His other half. The person he was supposed to share the rest of his life with, had been torn away from him. They’d only gotten six months together, when they were supposed to have years, decades. 

As images of Armie laying cold and lifeless on the ground starts to flash before his eyes, the feeling of guilt and regret starts to eat its way through Timmy. Had Armie been scared? Had he been in pain and alone?

He’d known something wasn’t right. Where had he been when it had happened? Why hadn’t he been with Armie? He should’ve been there, he should’ve held him and told him that it was alright, that he loved him. He should’ve been better.

Remembering the envelope, Timmy pats his pockets until he finds the cold, smooth paper. Laying down on floor, surrounded by all of Armies things, Timmy hugs the uniform close to his chest. Opening the letter, Timmy can almost hear his voice when he reads Armies last words. 

_Timmy,_

_I’m so, so sorry baby. I truly hoped that it wouldn’t come to this._

_Words can’t describe how blessed I am to have met you. From the day that I first saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The first time that I kissed you, I couldn’t believe you were real. I still can’t to be honest. You are the best thing that has happened to me._

_I want you to know that no matter what, you will always be my one and only. Nothing can take that away from you, from me._

_I can’t promise you when, or how, but I know that eventually, you’ll be alright again. I want you to know that when the time comes - and it will - and someone shows up and sweeps you off your feet, it’s alright. Your happiness is more important to me than anything else._

_Remember, no one can take our memories and history away from us. Just because you’ll eventually move on, doesn’t make us any less real._

_If you need anything, I want you to call Nick or my parents. They’ve promised me to look out for you, so don’t hesitate to reach out, alright?_

_Fuck, Timmy. I know that I’ve kept telling you I’ll be fine, that this trip is important. But I can’t help but feel that this time, there is too much at stake._

_I’ll miss you so fucking much._

_Please don’t ever change baby._

_My beautiful, beautiful Timmy. I love you so much._

_Maybe we’ll see each other again, some day?_

_Forever yours,_

_Armie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now might be a good time to remind you all about the happy ending tag, I think? 😬


	6. You won't ever be alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This feels like getting a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who's still around after the awful thing I pulled last time, here you go <3   
> (I've added two more chapters, because apparently, this thing ended up being longer than I thought it would. Oh well.)

The feeling of the plane touching down on the ground is one Armie has been looking forward to since the minute he walked away from Timmy.

The last five months had felt longer than these trips usually did, and Armie had needed to seriously pull his act together and not let it get to his head. He’d done it, and he’d focused on the job he had to do, the men he had responsibility for. It had been bearable.

The past two weeks however, had taken its toll on him. 

Two weeks ago, his platoon had been sent on a mission that was supposed to last for three days. Alongside the French military, the job had been to claim back a small village preoccupied by ISIS.

His platoon had been the one to go in first, searching and securing the area, before the French soldiers could go in deeper and fight at the front line. On their way to the village, they had tiptoed in between roadside bombs while being on full display to the enemy. The weather had been insufferable, the temperature rising to 60 degrees Celsius while they walked around with their full gear on.

They had all made it into the village on the first day. They were supposed to wait there for 48 hours before they would be picked up and sent back to base camp. Everyone had been on the verge of dehydration, their bodies fighting the heat while the sounds of machine guns and explosions could be heard not far away.

48 hours had stretched into to three days, five days, seven days. By the seventh day, the French platoon had lost ten men. Armie and his platoon had been sent further in as backup. When they had made it to the ISIS headquarters, the place had been seemingly abandoned. As they had been sitting around, trying to figure out where the enemy had gone, shots had started firing across their heads from multiple directions. While they had been encircled, one of his men had been hit. He hadn’t made it.

It had been a close call for Armie and for the first time since he started military training, he had been afraid that this would be it. Boarding the plane to go home, Armie had decided that this had been his last trip. He’d served his country; he’d done his duty. He wouldn’t be coming back.

The relief and anticipation that floats through his body when grabbing his bag, walking alongside Nick towards the arrivals gate is huge. He’s home now. Home for good. In mere minutes, he’ll be able to hold Timmy close again, hear his voice without the static of the thousands of miles separating them.

The arrival area is filled to the brim, people hugging, kissing and waving at their loved ones.

He spots Saoirse immediately, standing a few feet away, stomach protruding out in front of her.

As she and Nick reunite, squeezing each other close, Armie scans the crowd, searching for

dark curls and a crooked smile but don’t find it.

“I’ve tried calling him all morning,” Saoirse explains, her face looking worried and sorry. “When I went to his place, he wasn’t there either.” Confused, Armie asks, “do you think he got the wrong date or time or something?”

The feeling of confusion turns into panic as Armie looks at her, a frown on her face.

“I… maybe? Maybe something came up, maybe he’s just b-”

Dread starts spreading in his stomach. As he hoists his bag further up on to his shoulder, Armie cuts her off, says, “you know what, I’ll just go check his apartment,” and starts walking towards the exit.

Sitting in the cap, Armie can’t help but think that maybe Timmy decided that he couldn’t wait for him after all. Standing outside of Timmy’s apartment, Armie breathes in a deep breath, before holding in the buzzer. Right now, he wishes that he had a key, but he didn’t because he’d left for five months. The first time he pushes down the buzzer, nothing happens.

The second and third time is the same. When Armie tries to call Timmy’s phone, it goes straight to voicemail. Both times. As Armie makes his way home to his own apartment, he has a sinking feeling that Timmy just doesn’t want to talk to him. What had he even expected? That a 24-year-old beautiful, talented boy would wait around for someone like Armie for almost half a year, after just four weeks of knowing each other? Armie had even been the one to tell Timmy that he’d forgive him if he couldn’t wait for him to get back.

Stepping inside of his apartment, Armie drops his bag on the floor and bends down to untie his boots. At first, he doesn’t notice anything, the ache in his chest already clouding his focus. But then, he sees Timmy’s boots, neatly placed alongside Armies own sneakers. Standing back up, he notices Timmy’s coat hanging on the rack. Looking down at the small table behind him, lies the spare key he gave Timmy. Confused, Armie kicks off the other boot and calls out a quiet, “Timmy?”

He stands completely still for a second, listening out for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he walks into the kitchen, then the living room, calling out, “baby, are you here?”

It’s weird, Armie thinks to himself. Why would Timmy be here, but not show up at the airport?

At the same time, Armie doesn’t have any other answer as to why Timmy’s stuff would be here.

Walking down the hallway, Armie stops in the doorway to his bedroom, a mix of panic and relief flooding his whole system as he comes to a halt. Laying on the floor, in the middle of the wardrobe that looks like it has exploded all over the bedroom, is Timmy. His body is completely still, and for a second, Armie fears that someone’s been trying to rob the place, hurting Timmy in the process.

“Timmy, oh my God, what happened in here?” Armie exclaims, taking three long strides into the room, falling to his knees besides Timmy. When he doesn’t get a response, Timmy just laying completely still, eyes closed, Armie panics. Starts looking around the room, searching for signs that someone has broken in, until he sees it. Laying right beside his thigh, halfway folded, is a white piece of paper. Snatching it up, he immediately recognizes it as the goodbye-letter he wrote for Timmy before leaving. _What the hell?_

Confusion and desperation clear in his voice, Armie grabs Timmy by the shoulders, shakes him roughly while calling his name. “Timmy, come on. Wake up for me baby.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Timmy squeezes his eyes tightly shut before opening them, croaking out a quiet, “what?”

“Oh, thank God. Timmy, it’s me, come on. What the hell is going on?”

Looking at Timmy up close does nothing to ease the worry Armie feels. Face puffy and red, eyes completely void of life, Timmy looks awful.

As Timmy’s eyes seem to focus in on Armie, his face crumbles completely, tears welling up as his bottom lip starts trembling. “Armie?” he whispers, confused, as if he hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Yes, it’s me baby, it’s me.” Trying to get Timmy to sit up right as he starts sobbing, Armie bends down, locks his arms around Timmy’s pliant body and scoops him up into his arms, shushing him.

Right then and there, Armie doesn’t know what to feel.

At first, he thought Timmy had dumped him, left him before he even got back.

Then, he’d thought that he was physically hurt.

Now, he was sitting in his bedroom, Timmy sobbing in his arms, acting as if he’d just seen a ghost. And he’d found his own goodbye-letter on the floor, opened.

It’s then that it dawns on Armie. Timmy must’ve thought that Armie wasn’t coming back. That would explain the letter, the distressed state he’d found him in. It would explain Timmy not being at the airport. Timmy had thought that… what? That Armie was dead?

“Hey, Timmy. You gotta talk to me baby. Why weren’t you at the airport?”

Clutching Armies shirt in his hands, Timmy stills completely. Pulls back slightly, face drawn in a tight frown. “Armie? How… you’re, - how?” This time, he sounds far more awake, as he starts patting Armie down, hands grabbing at Armies biceps, his face. By now, Armie is convinced that Timmy hadn’t expected him to come back.

“It’s me, I’m here,” Armie says, trying to reassure Timmy, who seems to be working himself into a state of shock.

“But you’re – you’re supposed to be dead,” Timmy blurts. “They were here, they told me themselves, I read your letter, I, I,-” Timmy rambles, his breathing getting labored.

“I know, I know you have baby, but I’m here, I’m alright,” Armie says, running his hands down Timmy’s shoulders, his arms, brushing curls out of his face.

“But - but how? You’re supposed to be-” Timmy continues, tears welling up again.

“Come here, feel this, right here,” Armie says, taking Timmy’s hand in his, placing it right above his beating heart. “You feel that? Now place your own hand, here-” taking Timmy’s other hand, placing it above his own heart, Armie asks him, “you feel that? We’re the same baby, I’m still here, I promise you.”

Keeping still for a moment, Timmy just stares up at Armie, his breathing calming down as his heart starts beating at a rhythm much like Armies. Then, he lurches forward, grabbing Armies face between his hands, their lips finding each other immediately in spite of having been separated for five months. It’s hard and wet, tears, snot and saliva smearing all over their faces, and Armie isn’t even sure which one of them is crying by this point, but it’s what they need.

With his legs around Armies waist, Timmy runs his palms all over his body. His face, short stubble fading into the buzzcut on Armies head, down his broad back, along his sides, up his arms and back down again along his chest and abdomen.

“I’m so confused- I don’t understand,” Timmy mumbles, in between placing hard kisses on Armies lips.

“There must’ve been a mistake,” Armie answers, running his hands through Timmy’s curls, tightening his fingers. Fuck, how had he gone so long without this? How had he ever made himself leave this man? How had been so ready to risk losing this?

“But how-” Timmy breathes.

Then, Armie realizes that yes, there’s been a mistake. A huge fucking mistake that shouldn’t happen, ever. And how great a mistake had there been? Had someone thought Armie was dead for real or… was there some family out there who hadn’t been told? Had Armie been mistaken for someone else?

Suddenly, it all makes sense.

Arman Hammond. The guy in Armies platoon who hadn’t made it. The thought makes Armies blood run cold. It had been a joke between them all, that Armand Hammer and Arman Hammond had ended up at the same place, the same time, the same platoon. What was the odds? But they had. And Armie had been the only one of the two making it back home.

Sitting up right, pushing Timmy away, Armie starts scrambling for his phone. “Shit. Shit, fuck, shit, shit, shit!”

“What’s going on?” Timmy asks.

“They fucked up our names, they haven’t told them-” Armie starts, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“What names? Armie?”

“Arman Hammond. He was the one who died, not me! I need to call them. Fuck,” Armie curses, standing up from the floor.

* * *

One hour later, Timmy watched Armie slip back into the bedroom. His head was still spinning a little and he felt dizzy whenever he tried to phantom everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. He was honestly amazed that he hadn’t had a complete meltdown yet. Then again, looking around the room, he figured that he might already have had one yesterday. Finally pushing himself up from the floor, Timmy walks to one of the drawers he’d pulled out of the closet, picks it up at tries to put it back in. It’s heavy though, and he can’t make it fit. Coming up behind him, Armie helps him slide it back in.

“Why don’t you get started on putting everything back? Then I’ll handle the drawers,” Armie asks.

Nodding, Timmy starts picking up all of the socks laying around, then the underwear before he gets to the t-shirts. By the time he’s done folding the last shirts, placing it neatly on top of the pile, his hands are shaking, his breathing getting increasingly shallow. Timmy already knows what’s coming next. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Timmy looks at Armie who’s hanging the dark green uniform back into the closet. The only thing left on the floor, is the letter.

Timmy can’t stop starring at it. His body has frozen, eyes wide and barely blinking.

He starts wringing his hands together tightly, rubbing back and forth across his fingers, the muscles in his face involuntarily pulling together. By now, he’s almost panting, lips dry, spit going viscous. He feels like he just ran a marathon. His thoughts are running a hundred miles pr hour, all the sounds disappearing. The only thing he sees clearly, is the white piece of paper in front of him.

He can’t breathe. One moment, he’s gasping for air, the next one, it feels as if his lungs and chest are completely locked, making it impossible for Timmy to start breathing again. It makes him panic, his hands clawing at his thighs, chest, his hair as he tries to regain control over his own body, all the while being totally aware that he’ll just have to ride this one out. The thought of Armie witnessing him like this makes tears fall down his cheeks as he sits there, gasping and heaving.

It’s not until he feels Armies arms around him, the firm pressure of hands smoothing down his arms and back that he starts calming down. Timmy knows that this is just his body reacting to months of stress and the extra load of the past 24 hours, but he still hates every anxiety attack more than he did the last one. It always catches him totally off guard, the way he goes from zero to seeing stars in mere minutes. The way he always starts out fearing what he knows is coming, to fearing that he’ll pass out.

Armie doesn’t say anything. Just sits there and holds him, helping Timmy focus on the feeling of his body until the floating sensation is gone, the only thing left being the low buzz in his head and tear stains. Timmy feels exhausted. When he blinks back into focus, the letter is gone. Thank God, he thinks to himself. He never wants to see it again.

When Armie stands up and says that he’s going to take a shower and change into something else (the military uniform might be a bit too much on them right now,) Timmy grabs him by the arm, eyes wide and worried.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads.

Crouching down in front of Timmy, Armie takes the hand off his arm, looks Timmy in the eye, says, “I’m not leaving you. Now come on, you need a shower too.”

Walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, Timmy holds tightly onto Armies hand.

Inside the bathroom, Armie closes the door, before turning towards Timmy.

Using both hands, Armie brushes Timmy’s curls behind his ears, holds his face and leans down to place a soft kiss on his lips. Then, he grabs Timmy’s sweater by the hem and pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor. Running his hands down the smooth expand of Timmy’s creamy white skin, Armie breathes in a deep breath. Letting his hands stop at the bottom of Timmy’s jeans, Armies pops it open and unzips the zipper, before crouching down in front of him, pulling the jeans off too. Just like he did with Timmy’s face and upper body, Armie places his broad hands on Timmy’s hips before he runs them down the swell of his ass, around the front and down, down, until he reaches his knees, his thumb caressing the knee caps, forefinger and pointer finger brushing past the ticklish spot on the back of Timmy’s knees. Sliding his hands further down, Armie is momentarily captivated by the fact that he’s almost able to encircle Timmy’s shin and calf completely, if it hadn’t been for the increase in muscles from Timmy’s regular runs.

Pulling off Timmy’s socks, Armie looks up at Timmy, his hand wrapped around his foot. When Timmy places a hand on Armies shoulder to steady himself, Armie lifts the foot and brings it to his mouth, kissing the pale, cold skin as if it was something rare, something precious. And in a way it is, because there’s only one Timmy, and to Armie, there is only ever Timmy. 

Standing back up, Armie kisses Timmy on the cheek and whispers into the skin, “you’re so beautiful.”

Going through the exact same motions, Timmy unbuttons Armies beige camouflage shirt and pants, letting them join his own clothes on the floor. Running his hands down his body, Timmy suddenly remembers all the details of Armie. The symmetry of his collarbones, ribcage and hipbones. The muscles of his pecs, covered in a thick layer of hair, the dark trail of hair leading down to his cock. When Timmy spots a scar, about five centimeters long, running down the inside of Armies arm, he doesn’t say anything. Just leans in, and licks across the pink skin, before kissing it. The bathroom is dead silent, aside from the water running, their labored breathing. They don’t need to say anything, there actions showing everything unsaid. They’re reuniting their bodies, mapping out new changes and welcoming back what they already knew so well, but had forgotten how much they loved.

By the time they’re standing in front of each other, both naked, everything laid out for the other to see with clear eyes, the steam from the shower has fogged up the whole room.

Taking Timmy by the hand, Armie pulls them both into the shower. Hugging each other close as they both stand beneath the hot water. They let all of the anxiety, longing, sadness, anger, stress and mourning wash out the drain. It’s leaves them raw and pink, the only thing left being love and heavy want.

Hours ago, Timmy thought he’d never get to be in Armies arms again. Hours ago, Armie thought he’d been back too late. This feels like getting a second chance.

Bending down, Armie catches Timmy’s mouth in a desperate kiss, licking his mouth open.

Groaning, Timmy pushes Armie back, until they’re up against the shower wall, Timmy’s leg pressed in between Armies thighs. One hand in Timmy’s curls, the other grabbing a handful of Timmy’s ass, Armie flips them around, trapping Timmy against the wall, before he starts trailing kisses down his neck, chest and stomach until he envelopes the whole length of Timmy in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the head, Armie moans at the taste of pre come exploding on his tongue. Of all the things he missed, the taste of Timmy’s arousal is one of the things he missed the most. The feeling of Timmy’s hard and heavy cock sliding against his tongue, his lips, hitting the back of his throat, makes Armie groan deep in his throat, his own cock leaking and throbbing. The sound of Timmy’s small whimpers and moans almost makes him come right there. Pushing his mouth down on Timmy’s cock until he feels dark hair tickle his nose, Armie swallows around Timmy’s cock twice, before pulling back, releasing it with a wet pop.

“Turn around baby,” Armie croaks, voice raspy and clouded with lust.

Doing as he’s told, Timmy turns around, bracing his hands on the cold, slippery tiles.

Spreading Timmy’s cheeks with his big, tanned palms, Armie feels a whimper escape his throat as he takes in the sight of Timmy’s tight, pink hole. Feeling a surge of want and need to claim, Armie leans in and licks a fat, wet stripe across the pucker. He is immediately rewarded with a moan from Timmy, spurring him on to do it again and again, until Timmy is a babbling mess. Giving his man what he needs, Armie breaches his hole with his tongue, letting out a moan himself. It’s all he can do not to wrap a hand around himself, jerk his cock twice and come all over the shower floor.

Sinking his pointer finger inside the tight heat of Timmy, Armie licks around his finger, letting himself have a taste of his boyfriend one last time, before he stands back up.

Pushing his fingers into Timmy’s hair, Armie gently pulls, until Timmy’s head is leaned backwards, resting on Armie chest. Leaning down, Armie kisses Timmy, mouth open, tongues meeting.

“I’m going to take you to bed now, Timmy,” Armie whispers hoarsely, before turning off the water.

It makes Timmy moan out a, “yes please.”

Hoisting Timmy up into his arms, long pale legs secured around his waist, Armie carries Timmy into the bedroom, both of them dripping and naked.

With Timmy laying on his bed, spread out, cock hard and eyes a cloud of need and adoration, just for him, Armie almost falls to his knees, thanking whoever one needs to thank up there.

For a minute, Armie isn’t sure if he actually has died and gone to heaven, or if Timmy is just a fallen angel, that has miraculously landed by his feet.

It’s not until Armie is on top of Timmy, their hands intertwined, cock pushing slowly, carefully, into his tight heat, that they start talking.

“Armie,” Timmy breathes.

“Timmy,” Armie reciprocates.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours baby, only yours,” Armie assures, kissing his cheek, his neck.

“I’ll never let you leave without me again.”

“I’ll never leave without you again.”

Armie is almost all the way in, but he’s nervous. Nervous that he’ll hurt Timmy, that he’ll be too brutal, too rough and coarse for the delicate, soft, angelic human beneath him.

“I can take it, Armie. I’m strong enough,” Timmy says, looking Armie straight in the eye.

They both know that Timmy doesn’t just mean right now, right here. He may appear fragile and small, but Timmy has grown stronger in the past five months than either of them thought possible, and when Armie inevitable deflates and needs someone to lean on, Timmy will be strong enough for the both of them. 

Pushing all the way in, Armie feels like he is finally safe. They made it. They’re back together, as closely intertwined as humanly possible and Timmy still wants him. He’s safe.

Tears gathering in his eyes, Armie starts moving, his tears dripping down onto Timmy’s face, making it impossible to know which one of them started crying first, but it’s okay. Because right now, they’re one and the same. Leaning up, Timmy licks away Armies tears, wordlessly promising that whatever might be broken inside of Armie, Timmy is here to absorb his pain. If he can take just a fraction of Armies burdens, he’ll do it, he’ll take it all. Armies hurt is now Timmy’s hurt, and they’ll forever share the weight of each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

When Timmy comes, he keeps eye contact with Armie, letting him into his soul at his most vulnerable, all the while babbling, “I love you, I love you.”

When Armie comes, he’s leaning his forehead against Timmy’s, crying, promising, “I love you too.”

It’s the first time in five months that they tell each other _I love you_ while looking each other in the eyes, and it leaves them both breathless.

At some point, they get out of bed, Armie packing a duffel bag full of clothes, before they go to Timmy’s apartment.

Laying in Timmy’s bed that night, they just lay there, looking at each other, taking in all the small details of one another again.

Laying on his side, hands beneath his cheek, Timmy looks at Armie. “Your parents invited us to have Christmas dinner with them tomorrow night,” he says.

“Oh. We don’t have to go,” Armie answers.

“Don’t you want to?” Timmy asks, confused.

“I do, I just figured that maybe you weren’t, - that we weren’t ready to leave the apartment or-”

“I’ve been looking forward to going. With you, this time. Besides, they’ve missed you.”

Smiling, Armie reaches out a hand, brushes his fingertips against Timmy’s cheek, says, “alright. We’ll go.”

Pulling his hands out from beneath his cheek, Timmy scoots closer, until he’s fully embraced by Armie, chest hair tickling his nose when he breathes. Kissing the top of Timmy’s head, Armie closes his eyes, lets the scent of his boyfriend fill his nose, the feeling of a slim arm holding him tight, making him feel completely safe for the first time in months.

Two hours later, Armie is snoring peacefully beside Timmy. Timmy, on the other hand, is fully awake. He’s tired, his eyes started to sting half an hour ago and he almost has a headache from exhaustion. He knows that if he just closed his eyes and let himself keep them there, he would be asleep in a minute. But he can’t make himself do it. Every time he tries, he ends up opening his eyes a second later, because he _just needs to check that he’s still there, that Armie didn’t just disappear into thin air._ He tells himself that this is just tonight, that he won’t lose sleep every night in fear of Armie disappearing from his arms. Deep down, he knows that it’s probably not just tonight. That he’ll most likely need help to cope with the trauma it was to think that he lost Armie. Knows, that when Armie leaves again, he’ll have to have sorted this mess out. But not tonight. Tonight, he’ll let it be, he’ll stay awake, watching over Armie. He’ll lie here, and memorize every line, every freckle, every sound and every move. No matter how small they may be.

* * *

Timmy wakes up with a jerk, the sound of Armie groaning beside him ripping him out of his sleep. When did he even fall asleep?

Sitting upright in the bed, Timmy looks at Armie, who’s lying in bed, sweat breaking through on his forehead, a deep frown on his face. _Is he having a nightmare?_

For a moment, Timmy isn’t sure what to do. You shouldn’t wake people from nightmares. And what if Armie thinks that what he’s dreaming is happening in real life?

Another groan and a whimper from Armie rips Timmy out of his stupor. _Armie would never hurt him._ With a tight grip on Armies bicep, Timmy calls his name, shakes him a couple of times. Does it again, until Armie sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide open in shock. Armies whole had body has gone completely still, and Timmy can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s trying to figure out what is dream and what is reality. “You had a nightmare,” Timmy says quietly. Strokes Armies bicep as he continues, “you’re alright, it was just a dream.”

“Timmy?” Armie croaks, eyes searching. Timmy isn’t sure if Armie is completely awake yet, if he’s still floating around in an unsafe space.

“I’m right here,” he answers, lying back down and pulling Armie into his arms. With his arm beneath Armies head, Timmy situates them around, until Armie is resting his cheek against Timmy’s chest, Timmy’s free hand alternating between stroking Armies hair and back. Kissing the top of Armies head, Timmy puts all of his focus into breathing slow and steady breaths, until he feels Armie go soft in his arms again, his breathing going back to normal as he falls back asleep.

Timmy doesn’t sleep much from then on. Just lies awake, listening out for the sounds Armie makes. He can’t stop wondering about what Armie had dreamed. Had he had many nightmares before he got home? Had he had them from the beginning, and Timmy just hadn’t noticed?

And what would it mean if the nightmares had started just now? What had Armie even seen out there, and why hadn’t Timmy tried harder to ask him about these things himself? Then, remembering what Saoirse had said on the very day Armie had left, Timmy pulls Armie a little closer.

_“Our job is to support them no matter what they encounter out there.”_

He hadn’t known how right she’d probably end up being, but here he was. Suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of strength and responsibility, Timmy knows that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what he did before, what Armie saw out there, what Armie sees in his dreams now. Timmy will be here no matter what, and he’ll make sure that Armie knows that. That Armie knows that he doesn’t have to deal with whatever this is on his own. That no matter what version of Armie Timmy has gotten back, he’ll still love him unconditionally. For Armie, Timmy will do it all.

* * *

The next morning, Armie is awake before Timmy and had gotten out of bed to go to the toilet. Afterwards, he’d gone to the kitchen to get himself af glass of water. The apartment had been completely quiet, the only sounds coming from the fridge, the low murmur of people in the hallway and cars on the street. For the first time in months, Armie had stood in a t-shirt and boxers, listening to nothing but the silence. It was an odd feeling, he thought. It was nice, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from listening out. For what, he didn’t know.

Looking around, he looked at all of Timmy’s things. It felt good to be back. No, more than good. It felt right, as if something had clicked into place. Werther that was because of Timmy being just down the hallway, or being back in his apartment, surrounded by Timmy’s life, Armie didn’t know. It was probably both. Catching sight of the door of the fridge, Armie took a curious step closer, reading the small post it’s. _`No one controls you but you.´_ What was that about? And what’s with the boxes? Had Timmy been crossing out each day until Armie would be home? Armie feels a sting zigzag its way through his chest when he remembers finding Timmy on his bedroom floor yesterday. How broken and devasted Timmy had been, thinking that Armie wouldn’t come back.

_All the more reason not to go back out there,_ Armie thought.

Looking further up, Armie found a white piece of paper, half the writings covered by the magnet holding it. Putting his glass down, he took the piece of paper down. It had a name written on it, someone called Marie Newman, a phone number and an address beneath. Flipping the paper around, Armie read the black letters printed in bold. _Psychologist Dr. Marie Newman_.

Psychologist? Had Timmy been in therapy? Armie had never heard him mention anything like that. He knew that Timmy had taken up several new hobbies, including meditation. He knew that Timmy sometimes had trouble sleeping, that he had a hard time turning off his thoughts. When Armie had asked him what he thought about though, Timmy would say something like, “ _I miss my family in France,”_ or, _“school is busy right now.”_ He’d never mentioned anything about therapy. Armie feels his stomach sink a little, thinking that maybe Timmy had been seeing this psychologist, but hadn’t felt like he could tell Armie. Whatever the reason, Armie would never judge Timmy, would never not want to be with him because of something like that. Putting the paper back where he found it, Armie decided not to jump to conclusions. Timmy might not even have been going to see this Dr. Newman. Or he might, and then what? Just because Timmy was his boyfriend didn’t give him the right to snoop in something so private. He’d just ask Timmy later. Maybe.

Looking out the window, Armie quickly forgets about the contents on the fridge. While the city had been asleep, the streets had turned white. Crisp, glistening white snow covered the whole world outside, and Armie couldn’t remember the last time he’d appreciated a weather phenomenon this much.

Looking around Timmy’s apartment though, Armie found zero signs that Christmas had come. Now, that just wouldn’t do. Starting the coffee machine, Armie started searching the internet, trying to figure out where they would be able to find a Christmas tree this late. If they were lucky, they’d probably be able to get a small one that would fit into Timmy’s living room.

Walking into the bedroom, Armie crawled into the bed, bracketing Timmy’s body with his thighs. Leaning down carefully, trying not to crush the smaller man, Armie peppered kisses all over Timmy. Starting from his hair, kissing across his temple, his cheekbone, down to his mouth, his chin, before giving the tip of his nose one last peck. Pulling back, Armie looked into sleepy pools of light green. “Morning,” Armie whispered, smile spreading across his face.

Letting out a content sigh, Timmy put his arms around Armies neck, pulling him closer. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Timmy answered.

Swallowing, Armie pressed his face against Timmy’s neck. “Me too baby.”

Placing a quick kiss on Timmy’s neck, Armie pulled back and threw Timmy a look, raising his eyebrow. “How come you don’t have tree yet?”

Shrugging, Timmy started playing with the short strands of Armies hair in the nape of his neck. “I haven’t had one since I moved here. There’s barely enough room, and I figured that this time, we’d go to your parents anyway.”

“You never had a tree?” Armie splutters, bewilderment written all over his face.

“I’ve had a tree, just not-” Timmy starts.

“Yeah, yeah not since you moved here, I know,” Armie says starting to get up.

“Where are you going?” Timmy asks, leaning back on his elbows.

“We are going to find you the prettiest little Christmas tree New York city has to offer,” Armie says, starting to pull on a pair of jeans.

“And put it where?” Timmy asks, eyebrow raised in question.

“Where do you think, silly? In your living room, of course.”

“But there aren’t enough room,” Timmy counters, starting to get out of bed anyway.

“Then we’ll make the room,” Armie says in his best matter-of-fact voice, kissing Timmy on the cheek before walking out of the bedroom.

Timmy has a hard time figuring out how Armie is going to actually “make the room,” but thinks to himself that if Armie wants them to go get a tree, then that is what they’ll do. Even if they won’t be able to move around the living room afterwards.

* * *

Later that day, when Armie has spent on the better part of an hour putting up the tree, Timmy plombs down on the couch. (They’re still able to use the living room, and Timmy had ended up admitting that it looked nice, that Armie had been right. Secretly, Timmy thought to himself that he’d happily let Armie have his way with anything as long as he could just sit here and look at his proud, satisfied expression.) On their tree-hunt, Armie had been equally as flabbergasted when Timmy had said that he only had a small shoe box worth of Christmas decorations, as when he said he usually didn’t put up a tree. That had resulted in even more late Christmas shopping. Now, Timmy’s dining table was filled with newly purchased Christmas decorations.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent decorating Timmy’s whole apartment and the small tree in the corner of his apartment.

Laying on the couch, Timmy as Armies little spoon, Armie tightens his arms around Timmy and nuzzles his nose into dark curls. Then, he remembers the card on the fridge.

“I uh, I saw the papers on your fridge this morning,” Armie says.

Playing with Armies fingers, Timmy hums. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to snoop around, and I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, so just tell me if you don’t want to answer this,” Armie starts, holding on tight to Timmy. “But did you, uh… are you seeing a therapist?” Holding his breath, Armie prays that he isn’t making Timmy feel like Armie is snooping around in something that isn’t his to snoop in. Feeling Timmy tense just the slightest bit in his arms, Armie braces himself.

“I was. Still am, I guess,” Timmy answers.

_Well,_ Armie thinks. _You sort of figured that out already._ That doesn’t stop his heart from sinking a little, though. And it’s not because Timmy is getting help with his mental health, not at all, in fact, it makes Armie feel proud of him. Asking for help isn’t always easy, even though it should be. What hurts though, is the fact that Timmy didn’t tell him, that he held something so big a secret. _You are the one who left less than a month into this relationship, what did you expect?_ Armie thinks to himself.

“Oh,” he ends up breathing.

Turning around in Armies arms, Timmy looks up at him, a worried look on his face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s not that I wanted to keep it a secret, I just couldn’t make myself put that load on your shoulders. I didn’t want you to worry or to be distracted out there,” Timmy says.

_Oh._ So, it kinda was his own fault, Armie thinks.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Armie asks, “do I have to worry? About therapy, I mean.”

Avoiding eye contact, Timmy fiddles with the collar of Armies shirt. “I don’t think so, no. I’m getting better.”

Armie would be lying if he said he didn’t feel confused. Getting better? At what? And what had Timmy needed help with, since he felt like it would be too much of a worry to tell Armie about it?

“You know that you can tell me anything, right?” Armie tells him, trying to seek eye contact again.

Letting go of a rush of air, Timmy slumps further into the couch, into Armie. “I know. It’s just… when you left, I didn’t do very well, at all. But as soon as I realized that, I sought help and I got it, and I swear I’ve been doing really good for the past two months or so. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that I sort of… started slipping again, I guess.”

To Armie, this is slightly alarming. He knew Timmy had a hard time before he left, that he had missed Armie a lot. But then again, Armie had been just the same. And when they had talked over the phone, Timmy never mentioned anything about being unwell. Armie had never suspected that Timmy had needed help with anything. Armie felt pretty shit about this. How had he not noticed?

“What happened two weeks ago?”

This time, Timmy looks Armie in the eye, the corners of his mouth facing downward. “You stopped calling me. It gave me a feeling that something was wrong, that you weren’t alright. And I tried, I really did. I went running every day, I concentrated on studying, I went to yoga class and I meditated every night, sometimes more, but the feeling just grew bigger and bigger, until-”

“Until they came knocking at your door,” Armie finishes. The look of despair on Timmy’s face tells Armie that he’s right. Something breaks a little inside of Armie, when he realizes that Timmy had needed therapy because of his job. The time when Timmy had started feeling worse again, had been at the same time as Armie and his platoon had been sent on the last mission. Of course, Timmy didn’t know this. Didn’t know how right he had been about Armie being in danger. Even miles apart though, Timmy had been able to detect that Armie wasn’t alright. It almost made Armie choke up a little. 

“You were right, though. About the feeling,” Armie tells him. Seeing the question in Timmy’s eyes, Armie continues, “two weeks before I went home, my platoon and I were sent on an assignment. Our job was to take back and secure a village. It was a quick decision and we went early in the morning, that’s why I didn’t get to call you before we left. We were supposed to be back three days later though, so I figured that it’d be alright. It didn’t go as planned though, and we ended up being out there, trapped by the enemy for two weeks. I think, maybe that’s why you were feeling off.” Swallowing, Armie brushes a curl out of Timmy’s face. It’s the first time he’s talked about this since he got home, first time he’s told anyone from the outside world.

“But you all made it though, right?” Timmy asks, voice quiet.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Armie feels a lump in his throat forming. Voice shaking a little, he tells Timmy, “Uh, no. We lost- I lost, a man. His name was Arman Hammond. The guy, uh- the guy I was confused with.” 

“Armie,” Timmy breathes, his voice sounding sad. Pulling Armie closer to his chest, Timmy holds him tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby.”

Feeling a tear slip down his cheek, Armie says, “I just feel like, like I should’ve done better-”

Cutting him off, Timmy says in a stern voice, “no. You are not going to take the blame, Armie. You didn’t do it; you didn’t kill him. The guy who fired did, not you.”

“Yes, but if I had been better at doing my job we wouldn’t even have ended up in that situation.”

“I don’t know how these things work, but I do know that you were not the one making all the decisions regarding the assignment. You did not purposely get yourself or your men in that situation. If I know you at all, I know that you tried your best the whole way through. Are you telling me you didn’t do your best?” Timmy asks, his voice strong.

Sagging in Timmy’s hold, Armie shrugs.

Thinking back to the night before, when Armie had a nightmare, Timmy kisses Armie on the forehead. Voice tentative, careful, Timmy tells him, “I think you should talk to someone too.”

Nodding, Armie wordlessly agrees.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking a nap on the couch, the quiet stream of Christmas music flowing in the background as they held on to each other.

At night, they make their way to Armies parents. It’s Timmy who drives, constantly keeping an eye on Armie. He seems more on edge than usual, constantly keeping an eye on the road while tapping his fingers on his knee. At some point, Timmy places his hand on top of Armies, giving him something to hold onto instead. It makes Armie calm down a little, and when Timmy throws him a small smile, he smiles back.

When Abigail opens the door, Armie is pulled into a bone crushing hug.

When she pulls back, she sniffles, pats him on the cheek, says, “it’s good to have you home.”

It makes Timmy’s chest tighten with thankfulness when he remembers the way he thought this day would’ve gone if Armie hadn’t come back. How he would’ve been the one telling a mother that her son wouldn’t come back. The thought spurs him into stepping up beside Armie, throwing his arm around his waist as he kisses him on the shoulder, hand squeezing at his side. He’ll never let anything happen to him.

It’s a nice evening. All of them sitting around the table, eating, laughing, talking and exchanging presents. They don’t talk about the mishap with Armie. Neither Armie nor Timmy feels like bringing it up, because it was an accident, and Armie is here now, and he’s alright. Instead, Timmy dwells in the feeling of having Armie here this time, of having Armie home just in time for Christmas. When Abigail and William leave the table to prepare desert, Timmy turns his body towards Armie, nudges his head against his shoulder, a smile on his face. “I missed you,” he murmurs.

Ruffling Timmy’s hair lightly, Armie smiles back. “I missed you too, baby.” Leaning in, Armie kisses Timmy square on the mouth, just before Abigail reappears in the doorway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaa? *spreads out arms and laughs nervously*   
> Please share your thoughts with me, either here or on Tumblr (Kiros18.)


	7. Follow me to life and love within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Armie hadn’t been lying -he was going to officially quit his job, nerve wracking as it was- he also needed to do something else. Something he couldn’t tell Timmy about. Honestly, he hadn’t told anyone. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might've turned into a bit of a ramble with some resemblance of a plot (if you squint).

On Christmas morning, Armie was the first one to wake up. It was still dark outside, but he couldn’t sleep. He needed to piss. When he was done, he tiptoed back to the bedroom, quietly made his way back beneath the covers, laying still for a moment to see if he woke up Timmy. Then, he tried to get comfortable but didn’t succeed. For the past six months, he’d been used to waking up early and getting out of bed immediately. Now, he felt restless just lying in bed and his neck was killing him from having slept at an awkward position. He contemplated going for a run, but then again, the streets might’ve be filled with ice, and he didn’t really like the feeling of ice-cold air being forced down his lungs. Plus, it was Christmas morning and, he didn’t want to miss the way Timmy looked when he woke up. The way his eyes were always a little bleary, out of focus. The way those soft greens would focus on Armie, never failing to make a soft, happy smile grow on his face. He didn’t want to miss the way Timmy whispered “morning” - always whispered, because he didn’t like to start the day with loud noises. Didn’t want to miss the moment when Timmy would scoot across the small space between them on the mattress, plastering his whole body against Armie’s, leaning his head back in a silent request for a kiss.

So, Armie got out of bed as quietly as possible for the second time that morning, made sure the duvet was covering Timmy all the way up to his chin because he knew that Timmy hated waking up with cold shoulders. Then, he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, before making his way out of the bedroom, into the kitchen. In there, he got started on breakfast. While frying eggs and toast, brewing coffee and cutting fruit, he tried to make his way around the kitchen as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up Timmy just yet. When breakfast was finished, he went into the living room. In there, found the box of candles Timmy stored beneath the TV, placed them all over the living room before lighting them up. Putting on a Christmas movie, Armie turned on the Christmas lights on the tree. It was still pretty dark outside, and the whole living room now had a cozy atmosphere. It was perfect.

Walking back into the bedroom, Armie crawled back into bed, this time not as carefully as before. Timmy was still sleeping, small puffs of air escaping his lips. Armie’s heart soared and he almost abandoned his plan of waking Timmy. If the guy looked beautiful when awake, Armie didn’t know how to describe him when he was asleep. The way he looked so peaceful, so relaxed and vulnerable, completely unaware of the world going on around him.

Reaching out a hand, Armie placed his palm on top of the duvet covering Timmy’s arm. Rubbed his thumb back and forth a couple of times. When he didn’t get anything from Timmy other than a sigh, he moved his hand to his face, brushed Timmy’s hair away from his forehead. Letting his hand rest on the side of Timmy’s face, Armie caressed his thumb across his high cheekbones, the rest of his fingers scratching at his scalp. A couple of seconds later, Armie was rewarded with those green eyes he didn’t want to miss out on. Thirty seconds later, he had an arm full of Timmy, their lips pressed softly against each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Armie said, brushing his nose against Timmy’s, making him sigh in content.

“Mhmh, you too,” Timmy mumbled, already closing his eyes again as he started seeking out Armie’s lips for the second time. Brushing his lips against Timmy’s, Armie pulled back. Scratching Timmy’s back lightly, Armie said, “I’ve got something to show you. Why don’t you go use the bathroom, then join me in the living room in five minutes?”

Perking up, Timmy opened his eyes again, asked, “what is it?”

“Come see for yourself,” Armie said, patted Timmy on the thigh, encouraging him to get out of the bed.

Heaving a deep sigh, Timmy stretched and groaned before rolling to the edge of the bed and landed his feet on the floor.

Still lying in bed, Armie looked at Timmy as he padded naked across the bedroom floor before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

“You have to close the door, babe,” Armie said.

As he heard Timmy grumble, he saw the heel of his foot, before the door was falling shut with a small click. Getting out of bed, Armie gathered the duvets and pillows and carried them into the living room where he dumped them on the couch before going back to get the mattress. Pulling it out of the bed, he pulled it into the living room where he placed it on the floor in front of the TV, before placing the pillows and duvets back on the new bed. Making sure Timmy wasn’t out of the bathroom yet, he fetched the breakfast and coffee and placed it on the coffee table. Looking his work over and deeming it satisfactory, Armie walked back into the bedroom where he fetched Timmy a pair of boxers.

Knocking on the bathroom door before pushing it open, he peered inside. Timmy was sitting on top of the toilet lid, waiting patiently. Seeing Armie, he asked, “can I come out now?”

“Yup,” Armie answered, throwing the boxers in the direction of Timmy.

Catching the boxers, Timmy stood up and pulled them on, before stepping into Armie’s embrace.

“You’re cold,” Armie said, feeling the chilly skin of Timmy’s arms. Grabbing his sweater from the day before, Armie said, “arms up,” before pulling the sweater over Timmy’s head, letting it fall down over his thighs. “Now come see,” Armie said, taking Timmy’s hand, pulling him into the living room. Upon seeing the living room cast in soft warm lights, the cozy nest on the floor and the sound of Christmas coming from the TV, a huge smile spread across Timmy’s face. Looking up at Armie who was standing behind him, biting his bottom lip, eyes awaiting Timmy’s response, Timmy said, “Armie, it’s amazing.”

Walking towards the mattress, Timmy plumbed down in the middle, still smiling at Armie. “When did you even have time to do this?”

Shrugging, Armie joined Timmy, a warm feeling in his stomach. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought that since I haven’t had time to find you a Christmas present, I could at least make sure you had a nice Christmas morning,” he said, looking Timmy in the eye.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” Timmy said, leaning in to places a kiss on Armie’s lips.

Scooting closer, he crawled into Armie’s lap, wrapping his arms around Armie’s neck. “Besides-,” Timmy said, nuzzling his nose against Armie’s, “- having you here, with me, is the best thing I could ever wish for. I wouldn’t want anything else.”

“Yeah?” Armie asked, holding onto Timmy’s hips.

“Yeah,” Timmy promised, kissing the corner of Armie’s mouth.

“We should probably eat before the food gets too cold,” Armie murmured against Timmy’s lips.

Placing one last peck on Armie’s cheek, Timmy crawled out of Armie’s embrace, grabbing one of the plates. “You’re right. Open up,” Timmy said, holding up the buttery toast in front of Armie’s lips.

“You’re feeding me now?” Armie laughed, opening his mouth anyway to take a bite of the toast.

Feeling Armie’s lips brushing against his own fingers, Timmy felt a tingling sensation spreading from his fingers to his groin. “Do you mind?” Timmy asked, watching Armie chew and swallow.

“Nah. It’s good,” Armie said, grabbing a pillow and placing it between his back and the coffee table.

Leaving the fork on the table, Timmy picked up a grape and pressed it against Armie’s lips, making him open his mouth just enough to let the fruit and the tips of Timmy’s pointer finger and thumb slide past his lips. Starring at Armie’s lips, Timmy brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking at the skin that had just been in contact with Armie’s lips.

Clearing his throat, Armie said, “your turn.” Picking up the toast, he fed Timmy a piece, swiping his thumbs across his pink bottom lip to get rid of the crumbs sticking to his skin. Moaning around the toast, Timmy let his tongue chase the feeling of Armie’s thumb.

“Coffee?” he asked. Humming, Armie took a sip of one of the coffee cups, made sure it wasn’t too hot before bringing it to Timmy’s lips. “Careful,” he said, tilting the coffee cup as Timmy takes a sip of his own. “Good?” Armie asked.

“So good,” Timmy said, picking up one more grape. Placing it between his teeth, Timmy leaned in, prompting Armie to open his own mouth, his lips closing around the fruit, resting against Timmy’s lips. Pressing the tip of his tongue against the grape, Timmy pushed it into Armie’s mouth, letting his tongue brush against Armie’s bottom lip before he pulled back.

Casting a glance on the plate on the table, half the toast and fruit left, Armie picked up a lump of eggs between his fingers. Tilting his head back a little, mouth open, Timmy looked Armie straight in the eye as Armie fed him the eggs. Before Armie had the chance of cleaning his fingers himself, Timmy grabed hold of his wrist. Still looking each other in the eye, Timmy swallowed and licked his own lips, before bringing Armie’s thumb to his mouth. Sucking the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, Timmy made sure that it was completely clean of eggs before he repeated the procedure on the pointer and middle finger. Just as he let go of the last finger, Armie grabed Timmy’s face between his palms, said, “fucking tease,” before crashing their lips together.

Moaning into the kiss, Timmy giggled, “what about breakf-“

“Fuck breakfast,” Armie’s said, pulled Timmy into his lap, sliding his hands beneath his sweater, feeling the soft skin against his palms.

Timmy was warm and smooth, his body molting perfectly into Armie’s hands. Running his hands up Timmy’s chest, he could feel the way his ribcage expanded beneath his hands, the way his nipples stood erect against the soft cotton of the sweater. It made Armie’s blood boil with desire, a primal need to devour and claim clouding his brain. Pushing his hands further up, revealing the soft skin of Timmy’s tummy, Armie watched as his hands appeared from under the collar of the sweater, his fingers splayed out against Timmy’s neck. Squeezing softly, Armie let out a sigh as he admired the beautiful, delicate creature beneath his hands, completely giving itself over to Armie. It made Armie feel like the most powerful man on earth.

Sliding his hands back down, he revealed in the way Timmy’s body curved, from the ridges of his spine, to the small flat expand of bones and skin just above his ass. Further down yet, Armie’s hands smoothed over the round curves of Timmy’s ass, the elastic band and cotton of his boxers preventing Armie from being in full contact with the body beneath.

Letting go of Timmy’s ass, Armie grabbed a fistful of curls and pulled until he had free access to Timmy’s neck, biting at the skin between his neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp followed by a moan out of Timmy. “Take off your clothes for me, baby.”

Whimpering, Timmy pulled at the sweater, letting it land somewhere on the floor, before letting himself fall back on the mattress, planting his feet on either side of Armie’s thighs and levitating his hips, until he had room enough to push the boxers down his hips. The position gave Armie full sight of Timmy’s balls, his hard cock lying flat against his stomach. Pulling Timmy’s boxers off the rest of the way, Armie let out a growl as he bent forward, holding Timmy up by his ass. Opening his mouth, Armie guided Timmy’s cock in between his lips, swirled his tongue around the head, lapping at the slit where pre come oozed out.

“Shit, please-” Timmy moaned, canting his hips further up, trying to push his cock deeper into Armie’s mouth. Humming around the cock in his mouth, Armie gave it a vigorous suck before letting go. “Don’t want you to come in my mouth baby,” Armie said, grabbing hold of the base of Timmy’s cock. “Want you to come inside of me,” he continued, guiding the head of Timmy’s cock back to his mouth, where he smeared it across his lips, before sucking an impressive amount of pre come into his mouth, feeling his own cock start to twitch.

His words made Timmy whimper, a strangled sound escaping his lips as watched Armie lick and suck at his cock, acting as if he couldn’t get enough of Timmy’s dick, the fluids oozing out of him. “Yeah? Then lay down for me baby,” Timmy said, scooting away to give Armie some space. Getting rid of his own clothes, Armie lay down on his stomach, hugging a pillow to his chest. Feeling Timmy’s hands on his back, sliding down to his ass, Armie closed his eyes. Felt Timmy spreading his cheeks, the cold air hitting him. It had been months since the last time they did this, and it made Armie realize how much he’d missed this, needed this. The feeling of being taken care of, of letting himself be completely vulnerable and still know that Timmy would be everything he needed. That Timmy would know what he needed, would give him everything he could ever ask for and more.

Leaning in, Timmy kissed his way all the way down from the top of Armie’s spine to the small of his back. Stopped and stilled for a moment, before continuing further down, placing a kiss just above Armie’s pucker, then right below. It made Armie grunt in frustration and need, earning himself a small bite to the left cheek and a chuckle from Timmy. “Did you miss my mouth?”

“Uhuh,” Armie grunted, nodding his head. “Missed your tongue in my hole,” he continued, feeling himself flush. It had been a long time since he could just ask for things like this.

“Oh baby,” Timmy sighed, finally giving in to Armie’s needs, placing a kiss on his hole. Then, he spread Armie’s cheeks a little further, before licking across the tight pink pucker with the flat of his tongue, moaning at the taste of Armie. “I missed the taste of you,” Timmy said, before doing it again and again, until Armie was a whimpering mess, his hands clutching the pillow tightly.

“More,” Armie croaked, trying to push back against Timmy’s mouth, but not succeeding when Timmy pulled back.

“What did you say baby?” Timmy asked, carefully blowing cool air against Armie’s wet hole.

“Can I please have your fingers?” Armie asked, his head lying on the pillow so that he was able to see Timmy’s face when he was pulled back far enough.

“You can have anything you want,” Timmy said. “But I need to get the lube first, alright? Wait for me here.” Standing up, Timmy hurried down the hallway into the bathroom, cock jutting out in front of him. While waiting, Armie started rutting his cock carefully against the mattress, not wanting to come yet, but also needing some friction.

Just as Timmy made his way back into the living room, Armie had reached behind himself, trying to push just the tip of his index finger inside of himself. Tutting, Timmy knelt down on the mattress beside Armie, popped open the lid on the lube. “Couldn’t even wait for me, huh?” Timmy asked. Pushing Armie’s hand aside, Timmy leaned down, his mouth only millimeters away, his breath fanning across Armie’s hole.

“I just need- I need,-” Armie panted, cutting himself off with a moan as Timmy hardened his tongue, dipping the tip of it inside of Armie.

“You need?” Timmy asked, pulling back, spreading Armie’s cheeks.

“Your fingers, need your cock Timmy, please-”

From where he sat behind Armie, Timmy was still able to look Armie in the eye as he said this, still able to see what Armie really needed. That Armie needed Timmy to mark him up again, to stake his claim, to belong to Timmy in ways he’d never even belonged to himself. So, Timmy was sure that it’s what Armie needed when he gathered all of his saliva in his mouth, before spitting right at Armie’s already wet and clenching hole. Got his confirmation when Armie let out a loud moan and something that sounds like a mumbled “thank you.”

Placing his thumb on Armie’s hole, Timmy smeared his own spit around before carefully, slowly pushing the tip of his thumb inside of Armie. It made Armie moan and whimper, canting his hips backwards in attempt to get more of Timmy’s finger, and for a moment, Timmy almost considered just giving Armie his cock right then and there. Of course, he’d never do that to Armie. Had sworn on his life six months ago that he’d never hurt Armie, never take for granted the way Armie so eagerly handed over his trust to Timmy. Had sworn that he’d spend the rest of his life looking out for Armie. So, he pulled his thumb out and grabbed the lube. Squeezed out about twice as much as he actually needed, warmed it up in his hands before pushing the tip of his little finger inside.

“Tell me if I need to stop, yeah?” Timmy asked, looking at Armie.

Nodding, Armie let go of a whimper as he slowly relaxed all of his muscles.

By the time Timmy had worked Armie up to three fingers, he didn’t think he could hold off much longer himself. He didn’t realize how much he needed this himself until now, with Armie spread out beneath him like this.

“You think you can ride me baby?” Timmy asked, stilling his hand, his fingers deep inside of Armie as he placed a kiss at the nape of Armie’s neck.

“Yes, yes please,” Armie moaned, nodding his vigorously.

Laying down on his back, Timmy squeezed out more lube in his hand, working his cock in his hand until it was slick enough for Armie. Straddling Timmy, Armie braced his hands on the coffee table above Timmy’s head as he slowly sank down on his cock. He let out a deep moan as he bottomed out, his ass nestled flush against Timmy’s groin, his dick filling him out completely, stretching his hole in a way only Timmy’s cock could.

“So perfect for me Armie,” Timmy said, running his hands down Armie’s chest. Stopping at his nipples, he squeezed and twisted them between his thumb and index finger. Gentle at first, then a little harder when Armie closed his eyes in ecstasy, moaned, “fuck, Timmy.”

“Feel good baby?” Timmy asked.

“Yes, it’s good, so good. Missed your cock so much,” Armie panted, lifting himself up and down Timmy’s cock. “Shit, so good for me,” Timmy said, feeling his orgasm inching closer and closer. Grabbing hold of Armie’s cock, Timmy swiped his thumb over the head, gathering up the pre come dripping out. Bringing his thumb to his lips, Timmy sucked it into his mouth, moaning at the salty taste of Armie’s arousal. Taking Armie’s cock back into his hand, Timmy started jerking him off, matching his downstroke to Armie’s movements. As he felt himself tumbling towards the edge, he felt Armie’s cock hardening even further in his hand. “You gonna come for me baby? Come on, let go for me,” Timmy said, tightening his hand the way he knew Armie liked it, needed it.

“Yes, fuck yes, I’m coming, I’m-” cutting himself off, Armie moaned, his hole tightening around Timmy, pushing them both over the edge. Grabbing Armie by the hips, Timmy started fucking into him, his own cock pulsing into the tight heat of Armie. Letting go of a whimper, Armie shuddered by the overstimulation, let himself slump forward, bracing himself on his elbows on each side of Timmy’s head, trying not to crush him.

“Fuck,” Timmy panted. Wrapping his arms around Armie, he pulled him all the way down to his chest, running his hands up and down his back. “You’re amazing,” Timmy continued, kissing Armie’s temple. “You’re not half bad yourself either,” Armie said, pulling back to kiss Timmy on the mouth.

At some point, when they had caught their breath again, Timmy patted Armie on the thigh, got up and fetched them a warm washcloth to clean up. By that time, the sun had risen, lighting up the living room. The rays of bright sunlight reached Armie’s chest, giving his chest hair a golden glowing hue, that Timmy couldn’t stop running his fingers through. Looking out the window at the naked trees covered in thick layers of white snow, Timmy remembered the presents he bought Armie. The first one was the birthday present, which, if Armie had been home at that time, Timmy would’ve given him months ago. It was a set of keys. One for his building, one for his mailbox and one for Timmy’s apartment. Timmy had blushed, felt a little foolish for making this into Armie’s birthday present, when he remembered how Armie had just given him the key to his own apartment, without making a big deal out of it. But when he saw the look on Armie’s face, the gratitude and love in his eyes, Timmy stopped doubting himself.

The second one, Armie’s Christmas present, was a black knitted leather bracelet. On the inside was a smooth piece of leather, with the words “ _This is given only once.”_ This one had made Timmy a little nervous too. It had made him bite his bottom lip, awaiting Armie’s reaction. Maybe Armie hadn’t even remembered Timmy’s letter, what he had written all those months ago. Maybe he wouldn’t want to wear jewelry, even though this one was fairly masculine. Watching Armie tracing the inscription, mumbling the words to himself, Timmy held his breath. Sniffling, Armie looked up, his eyes glassy. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much,” he continued, pulling Timmy close with one arm, the other holding the bracelet. The way Armie said it made Timmy feel like he wasn’t just thanking him for the bracelet. Hugging Armie back, Timmy kissed his shoulder, tightened his arms around him.

Pulling back, Armie wiped at the stray tear running down his cheek. “You know, I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get you anything, -” Armie started, cutting himself off when Timmy started to open his mouth “- but I’ve got something I need to tell you. And I hope that you’ll be as happy about it as I am,” Armie continued, holding up his hand to stop Timmy from talking.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Timmy stayed silent, waiting for Armie to continue.

Clearing his throat, Armie sucked in a deep breath. Prayed that this was what Timmy wanted too. That it wasn’t just Armie, that their relationship was actually build for this. Telling himself that the final decision was already made anyway, that now it was only up to Timmy to do with this information as he pleased. “Do you remember when I told about my job? And you asked me why I’d choose such a job?”

Nodding, Timmy hummed in affirmation.

“And I told you that I wanted to give the future generations, wanted to contribute to the kids out there having an actual chance in life?”

“Yeah, I do,” Timmy said, still looking confused.

Rubbing his sweaty palms up and down his naked thighs, Armie swallowed. “Well. I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually, for the past few months. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I think it’s time to, uhm, - ” clearing his throat again, Armie looked at the pillow lying beside Timmy. Starting over, he said, “I still want to do that. But in a different way, you know. And so, I’ve been thinking about going back to school. Uhm, like, to get a teachers degree.”

Holding his breath, Armie looked back up at Timmy. Saying it out loud like this made it sound silly. Going back to school? He’s 28 for Christ sake. Sometimes, it would strike Armie that Timmy, who was five years younger than him, had spent more time studying than Armie had his whole life. That Timmy was just about that smartest guy Armie had ever met, and that sometimes, when he was feeling really low, he couldn’t help but wonder if Timmy thought that Armie might not be smart enough for him. Might not be academically intellectual enough to level them out. Right then and there, if he had to be completely honest, he feared that Timmy wouldn’t believe in him. That thought alone was enough to make him feel ashamed of himself. Timmy had spent the past half year proving times and times again how he’d always support Armie, even when they didn’t agree on something.

Smoothing out his features, Timmy bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s actually a really good idea. It would make a huge difference out there, all those kids being out of school and -,”

Then, Armie realized that he’d left out the most important part.

“No-no-no, I didn’t mean out there, I meant here. At home.”

Looking confused again, Timmy tilted his head, said, “I know you’d be studying at home, but -”

“No, let me start over. I want to teach kids, here. At home, in the US. I’m not going back out again.”

Biting harder at his cheek, Timmy tried to keep his face blank of the emotions tumbling around inside of him. Was Armie saying what he thought he was saying?

“What?” Timmy huffed, failing at keeping the turmoil of emotion out of his eyes.

“I’m not going back again, Timmy. And I know that this might not be what you want, and that’s totally fine, we can figure something out, whatever you want, but-”

“Are you doing this for me, or for yourself?” Timmy cut him off. He needed to know that this wasn’t Armie doing something because he thought it was what Timmy wanted. That this wasn’t Armie being scared that Timmy would leave him if he kept getting deployed or something equally as stupid. This had to come from Armie himself, otherwise, Timmy wouldn’t hear it.

“What do you mean?” Armie asked, frowning.

“Are you quitting the army because you think I won’t support your next deployment or because you, yourself, don’t want to go anymore?” His voice was a little harder than he meant, his face taught tight in an attempt to keep it all together. Timmy would rather come off a little rigid than letting Armie know how much this actually affected him. He needed Armie to answer his question with as little pressure as possible.

“I’m quitting because I don’t want to go back again. Because I’ve spent almost ten years serving this country. Because every time I come back, I’ve lost a little bit of myself that I won’t be getting back. Because I’ve finally found you, and I feel like I’ve been spending the past twenty-seven years looking for you and now that I’ve got you, I’m not leaving you again, no way. I’ve done my duty out there and ’ll keep doing it back here where I can be with you too. If – if that’s what you want, of course.” Taking a deep breath, Armie stopped talking and searched Timmy’s face. It was obvious that he felt something, but Armie couldn’t quiet figure out what. Was Timmy angry with him? Did he really not want him to be home for good? For a split second, Armie almost relented and thought to himself that if Timmy didn’t want this, then he’d go back again. And he’d keep going back, because what reason would he have to come home?

Bouncing lightly in his seat, Timmy looked up at the ceiling, tapping his thigh. Then, he blew out a big puff of air, before throwing himself at Armie.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Timmy chanted, clinging on to Armie.

It caught Armie off guard for a moment, before he realized that Timmy wasn’t angry, that he wasn’t going to tell Armie that he was being delusional.

“Does that make you happy?” Armie asked, placing his palm on Timmy back, keeping him in place.

“Are you crazy?” Timmy laughed. It’s sounded wet, and Armie squeezed his eyes shut, feeling relief flooding his body.

“You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to cope with the fact that you’d be leaving me again. Shit, it makes me more than happy. Are you absolutely sure, though?” Timmy asked, pulling back to look Armie in the eye.

“I’m sure. I’m handing in my resignation tomorrow.”

“Fuck. I love you,” Timmy said, his words muffled by Armie’s lips, tears of joy running down his cheeks.

“I love you more,” Armie answered, cradling Timmy’s face in his hands.

“It’s probably the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten,” Timmy chuckled, resting his forehead against Armie’s.

Later, when they’d stopped sniffling, Armie lay with his head on Timmy’s chest, eyes closed. “I’ll never let you go,” Timmy said, his voice sounding far away as sleep started crashing over Armie in waves. It might have been the fact that it was Christmas, that the rays of the winter sun was warming up his skin. It might have been the sound of Timmy’s voice promising forever, the drowsy state of his mind, or the fact that he simply just knew from the beginning, but right then, it stood clear as the day for Armie. Timmy was it for him. This was the guy he was going to marry.

* * *

On the 26th of December, Timmy’s family arrived. They were staying at a hotel, Timmy’s apartment not big enough for all of them to sleep in. It was midday when the buzzer to Timmy’s apartment went off and two minutes later, Timmy’s apartment was a big flurry of hugs and kisses on the cheeks. It was the first time Armie met them in person, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been nervous. It had been almost too good to be true with him and Timmy, and he had a nagging fear that it would end with Timmy’s family not approving of him. Of course, nothing of the sort happened. Nichole had pulled him into a tight hug before she even had time for Timmy, stating that they all couldn’t wait to meet Armie. Marc shook his hand in a firm grip, patted him on the back and told him that it was a pleasure, his face telling Armie that he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

It was only Pauline he felt a bit unsure of. She was nice to him, but he knew that she was on her guard around him. Figured it was only fair. Here he came, out of nowhere and proclaimed to love her little brother after having known him for mere weeks, just to leave him for months. And Armie was not stupid, he knew that those months had been harder on Timmy than he’d let on. Knew that Timmy had suffered as much as Armie, if not more. Just had to think about the state he’d found Timmy in three days ago. Shaking off the images of Timmy lying on the floor, Armie had put his arm around Timmy’s waist, had told himself that if Pauline needed some time to warm up to him completely, he’d understand, and he’d give her some time.

Isabelle won his heart over in a matter of seconds, her eyes as green as Timmy’s, her blonde hair making her stand out from the rest of her family. Kneeling down to greet the little girl, Armie had been taken by surprise when she’d ignored his wave, instead taking a step closer, putting her small hands on his shoulders and kissed his cheeks three times before introducing herself as _Bella_ , her French accent making her sound like a little European high class lady.

* * *

Later, Armie had excused himself from the cardboard game that was in full swing in the living room and left the apartment. Had told Timmy that he’d needed to hand in his resignation and kissed him square on the mouth when no one had been looking. While Armie hadn’t been lying -he was going to officially quit his job, nerve wracking as it was,- he also needed to do something else. Something he couldn’t tell Timmy about. Honestly, he hadn’t told anyone. Yet.

Later in the evening, Timmy was standing in his kitchen with Pauline, Isabella on a small stool between them. They were cooking, Isabelle helping out by cutting tomatoes with a butterknife that had gone so dull that the tomatoes ended up being a smashed pile of flesh, seeds and juice. Looking into the living room, Timmy could see his father and Armie talking. He couldn’t hear them though. His father had his back turned towards Timmy, so he couldn’t see his face either. He could see Armie’s face though, and he looked dead serious. If Timmy had to guess, slightly nervous too. He was standing with his hands in his back pockets, shoulders raised more than usually, biting his lip. It was a stance Timmy recognized as Armie being out of his comfort zone. His father though, seemed relaxed. Turning back to the task at hand, Timmy told himself that he would ask Armie about it later.

“Do you know when he’s going back?” Pauline asked, casting a sideways glance at Timmy.

Smiling, Timmy pulled out a skillet from underneath the kitchen counter.

“He’s not,” Timmy said. “He just quit. He wants to go back to school.” He tried to sound calm and collected about it, he really did. But he knew that he failed when he felt the smile spreading across his face, the giddiness warming up his stomach.

“Really?” Pauline asked, eyebrow raised. Looking at her, Timmy knew that this was good news for her as well. Knew that she had been worried about Timmy.

“Really,” he said.

Going back to cooking, Pauline nodded to herself. “Good,” she said. “Good.”

Looking back into the living room, Timmy wondered again about the conversation taking place between his father and Armie. By now, his mother was standing beside his father, arms crossed, a hand covering her mouth as she watched Armie talking. Then, she pulled Armie into a hug and apparently said something to him, because Armie’s face relaxed, his frown smoothing out into a smile when Marc placed a hand on his shoulder, patted it twice. Now, Timmy was even more curious. Pulling back, Armie smiled at them, said something again, before he made his way towards Timmy. Coming up behind him, Armie encircled his arms around Timmy, hiding his face in his neck.

“Hey you,” Timmy said, turning his head to try and look at Armie. He couldn’t see anything but his forehead and nose. “I love you,” Armie mumbled quietly, only he and Timmy being able to hear it.

Timmy could feel Armie’s smile against his neck, before small kisses were being pressed into his skin. Timmy didn’t know what had made Armie this affectionate in front of his family, but he didn’t mind much. He could already feel himself smiling just by knowing that something had made Armie happy, even without knowing the cause of it.

“What were you talking about over there?” Timmy asked.

Pulling back, Armie kissed Timmy’s jaw. “Nothing,” he said, before moving over to Pauline and Isabelle, asking if they need any help. Isabelle told him to, “ _please get started on the pasta,_ ” making both Pauline and Armie laugh.

* * *

On Timmy’s birthday, he woke up to the feeling of Armie pressing the pad of his index finger to his hole. Felt him circling it around his rim, placing damp kisses on his shoulder and up, stopping behind his ear. Felt, more than heard Armie’s deep, sultry morning voice rumble in his ear, “happy birthday, beautiful.” It made a smile spread across Timmy’s face; his eyes still closed. Turning his head to the side, he sought out Armie’s lips. Tapping his finger against Timmy’s hole, Armie ran his nose along the side of Timmy’s face, said, “always so pretty and good for me,” before bringing his finger to Timmy’s lips. Pushing the digit inside as he said, “open your mouth for me baby”. Timmy automatically started sucking the finger, swirling his tongue around it, drenching it in his own spit. Moaning around Armie’s finger, Timmy opened his eyes. Starring back at him, was Armie, his eyes dark and hooded, mouth slightly open. “Such a pretty mouth,” Armie murmured, his eyes trained on Timmy’s mouth molding itself around Armie’s finger. Timmy hummed and looked into Armie’s eyes, deliberately trying to drive Armie insane. At least, that’s what Armie thought. Bringing his finger back to Timmy’s hole, Armie carefully pushed the tip inside while he simultaneously licked across Timmy’s perking nipple and sucked it inside of his mouth. Wrapping his free hand around Timmy’s cock, Armie made Timmy moan out in pleasure. “What do you want baby?” Armie asked, slowly jerking Timmy’s cock in his hand. Whining, Timmy tried to chase both the hand around his cock and the finger in his ass at the same time. “Want your mouth,” Timmy stated.

Pulling his finger out, Armie drenched it in lube before pushing it all the way inside again. Scooting down the bed, he sucked a hickey on the soft flesh covering the inside of Timmy’s left thigh, before repeating the procedure on the right thigh. Fucking Timmy’s hole with two fingers, Armie said, “want me to suck this pretty cock until it shoots down my throat?”

“Fuck Armie, yes” Timmy moaned, grabbing a fistful of dark blond hair.

“Ask nicely baby,” Armie answered. Guiding Timmy’s cock towards his lips, he started lapping at the leaking slit.

“Will you please suck my cock?” Timmy asked, his voice resembling an impatient brat more than a polite boyfriend.

“And?” Armie grinned, stilling his tongue.

“And can I _please_ come in your mouth?” Timmy whined.

“Of course, you can” Armie said, dipping down and engulfing Timmy’s whole length in one fluid motion. Timmy was so impressed he almost forgot how fucking _good_ it felt.

“Oh my god, Armie,” Timmy moaned as he closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Armie’s mouth around his cock, the fingers brushing the bundle of nerves placed deep inside of him.

It was only minutes after Timmy had moaned out Armie’s name while shooting down his throat, that Armie moved away from his position on the bed, disappearing out of the bedroom with a, “I’ll be right back.” Sinking into the mattress, Timmy was secretly a little happy that his family was staying at a hotel. He highly doubted that sex with Armie would ever be a quiet affair. Plus, having Armie walk around the place _naked_ was certainly not a sight Timmy would ever take for granted.

Coming back to bed, Armie was carrying a small rectangular box, wrapped in dark grey paper with a silver ribbon on, in his hand.

“For you,” Armie said. Sitting cross legged at the bed, he reached out the box towards Timmy, a big smile on his face.

“For me?” Timmy answered, shy smile on his mouth as he took the box. Sitting up right, he carefully slid the ribbon off.

“Course, silly, it’s your birthday. Now, I’ve got one more thing for you, but you’ll get that one later.”

Peeling off the paper, letting it fall to the floor, Timmy opened the black box. Inside, lay a thin golden bracelet, two small charms attached to it.

“I just thought that It’d be nice if we both had one, you know? If you don’t like it, we can just exchange it, get you something else,” Armie said, nervously pulling at his bottom lip.

“Armie, it’s beautiful,” Timmy whispered, looking up at him.

“Yeah? It’s- the A stands for Armie, obviously, and the star is you know- for us. We match,” Armie said, stretching out his arm, pointing at the inside of his wrist, where his own bracelet had Timmy’s words engraved.

“I love it. Thank you,” Timmy beamed, his eyes glassy and happy. Scooting forward, he pulled Armie’s face close, kissing him hard. Pulling back, Timmy picked up the bracelet, holding it out towards Armie. “Put it on for me?”

Clasping the small piece of jewelry around Timmy’s wrist, Armie bend down and placed a soft kiss on the pulse point, right below the small golden star.

Laying back down with Timmy in his arms, Armie pulled the duvet over the both of them, Timmy’s body starting to feel cold. Tracing patterns on Armie’s chest, Timmy studied the way the bracelet fell around his arm, the A charm resting on top of his wrist. It made a warm feeling spread in his stomach. The knowledge that Armie had wanted them to have something that would always remind them of each other made him feel incredibly loved. It was a token of love. Of belonging to each other. It would show the rest of the world that they were taken, while still keeping it a secret what it actually meant.

“We should get out of bed, take a shower,” Armie said.

“I’m pretty comfortable here, actually,” Timmy said.

“Yeah? I’ve got plans for us today though, and unfortunately, they involve us getting out of the apartment,” Armie chuckled, kissing the top of Timmy’s curls.

Perking up, Timmy looked up at Armie. “Where are we going?”

“First, we’re going out for breakfast, because I’d much rather spent the time looking at this face than cooking,” Armie said, tapping Timmy’s nose. “After breakfast, I’m taking you to the beach. Just like I promised you.”

Throwing off the duvet, Timmy rolled off the bed in one fluid motion, placing his hand on his hip, smiling with his whole face. “What are we waiting for, then?” He said, motioning with a hand for Armie to follow him as he walked towards the bathroom.

* * *

For breakfast, they had gone to the café where Armie had first sat down in front of Timmy. Eating croissants and drinking coffee, Armie and Timmy had sat in front of each other, smaller boots resting against larger boots beneath the table.

At one point, the sun had shined through the window they were sitting by, lighting up Timmy’s face as he took a sip of his coffee, the golden bracelet sliding down his slim arm. Armie had been staring at him in awe. To him, there was no one else like Timmy. No one as stunningly gorgeous, brilliant and fascinating. Everything about him made Armie feel like he had won some kind of lottery he didn’t even know about. Timmy had just showed up out of nowhere, turning Armie’s world on its head, casting a new light on everything. At times, Armie had been wondering when he would start feeling scared. When he would see the seamy side of things, because how could it just be this good? But then again, it wasn’t like they’d had it easy all the time. Meeting Timmy, falling in love with him that hard and fast, knowing the whole time that they’d have to be apart for months, hadn’t been easy. Watching Timmy hold it together for the sake of Armie, turning around and leaving him at the airport hadn’t been easy. Not knowing if he’d ever get to hold him again, then coming home to find him in pieces hadn’t been easy, it had been atrocious and awful.

Deciding to stay home from now on, had been easy. Going to the jeweler yesterday, talking to Nichole and Marc, had been the easiest decision he’d made in years, if not his whole life. He may only have known Timmy for six months, spent five of those away from him, but sitting here, looking at him, Armie knew that it was the only decision he could live with. There wasn’t really an alternative anymore, not one Armie wanted to consider anyway. 

* * *

Locking up the car, Armie turned around towards Timmy and gave him a once over.

“You sure you don’t need one more jacket?” Armie teased, as he adjusted the thick scarf around Timmy’s neck. It was big enough to cover the most of his slight chest while still covering half of Timmy’s face, making it so he had to pull it down in order for Armie to be able to see him sticking out his tongue at him.

“You sure you don’t need one more--” Timmy mocked, squealing when Armie caught him by the waist, keeping him close as he tried to tickle the ribs hidden behind all of the layers.

“You’re always complaining about being cold,” Armie said, letting go of his boyfriend. Taking his gloved hand in his own, they started walking towards the beach.

“Maybe I’m trying to get you to cuddle me,” Timmy pointed out.

“Shut up babe, you know you just have to ask for that,” Armie said, wrapping an arm around Timmy, pulling him close, just to let go a minute later when their gait got awkward due to their height difference.

An hour later, Timmy’s cheeks were rosy red by the cold wind, his curls glinting in the sun from the droplets of salt-water blowing across the beach. Having asked multiple times, Armie was positive that he wasn’t freezing though, but he still knew that he couldn’t postpone his plan much longer. They’d have to go back to the car at some point. That didn’t change the fact that he was nervous as hell though. The butterflies he’d felt when they parked the car had now turned into a tight ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach, sending currents of buzzing electricity throughout his whole system. He had to keep a firm grip on Timmy’s hand, in order not to let off how much he was shaking.

Coming to a stop, Timmy turned towards the sea. Closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Opening one eyelid, he peered up at Armie, a small smile on his lips. “I’ve dreamed about this for months, you know?”

“Being at the beach?” Armie chuckled, fighting to keep the nerves out of his voice.

“Yeah. With you. Because you promised you’d take me, and then it became this fixing point for me. If I could just focus on getting here, then I’d made it… And then, when I thought that you, you know-” Timmy trailed off, his face falling as he stared out at the horizon.

“I know,” Armie said, squeezing his hand. “But we’re here now. Together.”

Looking back up at Armie, Timmy smiled again, his eyes soft. Gazing down at Timmy, Armie knew that this was it. He needed to do it now. Feeling the small box in his pocket, Armie took a deep breath, pointed out at the ocean, said “wow, do you see those waves out there?”

It worked, because Timmy turned his upper body away from him, gazing in the opposite direction of Armie.

While Timmy wasn’t looking, Armie got down on one knee and pulled out the small velvet box from his pocket.

“I don’t see them--” Timmy said, turning around but coming to a stop when he looked down at Armie. “Holy shit,” he breathed, covering his mouth with a gloved hand.

“Timmy--” Armie started, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’ve been gone for you since day one and every time I think about the future, I see you in it. Will you marry me?” 

Nodding like a mad man, Timmy exclaimed, “yes! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Sniffling he grabbed Armie by the arms and hauled him to his feet, smashing their lips together. “Fuck yes, I’ll marry you,” Timmy laughed.

“Thank God,” Armie said, sniffling as well as he felt his emotions getting the best of him. _Timmy said yes._ “Come on, give me your hand,” he said, taking hold of Timmy’s gloved hand. Pulling the glove off, Armie stuffed it in his pocket before getting out the ring. It was a thin silver band, with a big blue stone on top. Armie hadn’t needed to look at anything else, he’d thought of Timmy the minute he’d seen it. Looking at Timmy’s face when he puts it on his finger, Armie knew he’d chosen the right one.

“It’s gorgeous, Armie,” Timmy said, spreading out his fingers, admiring the ring.

“It reminds me of you,” Armie answered, tears clouding his vision.

Looking up at Armie, Timmy beamed. “We’re getting married,” Timmy said. Then, a little louder, before he threw himself at Armie, squealing, “we’re getting married!” as Armie laughed in his ear, spinning them around.

Standing back on the ground, Timmy placed his hands on both sides of Armie’s face. “I love you more than anything.” Then, he kissed him, deep and slow, pouring all of his gratitude and love into his fiancée. “I love you too,” Armie breathed, feeling something clicking into place. _Yes,_ he thought as the crashing of the waves continued in the background, the feeling of Timmy surrounding him. _Easiest decision in my life._

* * *

Later, when they’d come home from the beach and Armie had fucked Timmy in the shower, they’d gotten dressed and went out to have dinner. Timmy had thought that it would just be him and Armie with his parents, Pauline and Isabelle. But when they’d arrived as the last ones, Armie’s parents, Nick and Saoirse had been there too. Making their way to the table, Armie had kept his hand on the small of Timmy’s back, a rather proud expression taking over his whole face. The faces of their families and friends had been ones of expectation, as if they were all holding their breathes. Timmy hadn’t thought much of it, just feeling excited to see all of them gathered. A little proud too, that he’d get to introduce his parents and Pauline to Abigail and William.

When nobody said anything, Armie hadn’t been able hold it in any longer. He’d proudly taken Timmy’s hand, announcing with glee in his voice that, “he said yes!”

Then, everyone had erupted in applauses and congratulations, both of them being pulled into hugs and kisses.

Sitting at the table between Armie and his father, Timmy had asked Armie, “how did they already know?”

Putting down his glass of wine, Armie had smiled at him as if he was about to let Timmy in on a secret. “You remember when you asked me yesterday what I’d talked to your father about?”

“Yeah? Oh!” Timmy blurted.

“Couldn’t have them not approve of this now, could I?” Armie said, winking at Timmy.

Sitting across the table, Nichole gave her husband a warm smile, before she looked at Armie and said, “we couldn’t have wished for a better son-in-law.”

That night, when they held each other in Timmy’s bed, Timmy closed his eyes as he let tears of gratefulness and happiness trickle down his cheeks. He couldn’t have been happier.

* * *

By the time New Year’s Eve arrived, Timmy and Armie had packed a bag and gone to a small cabin up north. It had a small kitchen, a fireplace, a bed bigger than Timmy’s at home and a small bed loft. Their only neighbors were the whispering pine trees and the snow-white mountains, shielding them from the rest of the world. Initially, Timmy had imagined them staying in the city, watching all the fireworks, going out with their friends. That was until Armie had started acting differently.

The first time it became apparent to Timmy, was when he and Isabelle had been popping popcorn in the microwave. Armie had been walking into the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand when the corn started making irregular crackling noises, making Armie startle so suddenly his coffee had spilled all over his hand and the floor.

“Shit, are you alright?” Timmy had said, grabbing some kitchen roll on his way to Armie. Armie hadn’t answered, and when Timmy looked at his face, he had a faraway look in his eyes, his body flinching even more as the sounds from the microwave got more frequent. He looked panicked.

“Isabelle, honey, turn off the microwave please,” Timmy had said, soaking up the coffee on Armie’s hand, prying the coffee cup out of his hand.

“But the popcorn--” Isabelle had said, turning it off anyway.

“We’ll finish them later,” Timmy had said. Jumping down from her stool, Isabelle had sighed and run over to the couch, where Marc and Nichole had been sitting, watching the situation.

“Armie? Hey, it’s alright,” Timmy had said, carefully taking his hands in his own. “Come on, come back to me.”

Then, Armie had come out of his stupor, his shoulders slumping.

“Can I give you a hug?” Timmy had asked, giving Armie a guarded look.

Nodding, Armie had stepped into to Timmy’s arms, clinging on to him as his breathing came back to normal.

Another day, they had all decided to go to the park. On their way there, cars had been speeding by fast, tires making screechy sounds on the asphalt. Armie had pulled his shoulders up tight, constantly glancing over his shoulder as he sped up. When Timmy had gotten a hard time following his pace, he’d gripped his hand tightly, yanked at it and said, “Armz, wait up!”

Armie had had that same panicked, faraway look on his face again. Realization had hit Timmy, who’d held on tight to Armie’s hand, telling his family that they’d meet them at the park, as he and Armie had hurried off to the park, away from the sounds of the traffic.

The third time Timmy noticed Armie being different, was that same day, when they’d played hide and seek in the park with Isabelle. Armie had been the one seeking, Timmy standing behind a tree, watching the two of them. Isabelle, who had been hiding by a bush, had sneaked up behind Armie, who was crouching down, mockingly looking for her under a bench and hadn’t heard the little girl coming at all. She’d jumped on his back, squealing a high-pitched sound. It had taken Armie so much off guard, that he’d turned around, jerking his body violently enough to shake Isabelle off of his body. She hadn’t been hurt, had still been giggling, oblivious to the situation.

Timmy and his family hadn’t though. Pauline had been there in an instant, picking up Isabelle, telling her that it was time to calm down. That, “we can’t go scaring uncle Armie like that”. Timmy had jogged over to Armie, crouching down by his side.

“You alright?” he’d asked, searching Armie’s face. Armie, who looked stricken with horror, had immediately stood up, apologizing.

“I’m so sorry Belle, are you alright?” he’d asked, stepping up to the little girl in Pauline’s arms.

“She’s fine, nothing happened,” Pauline assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Seriously Armie, it’s alright. Don’t think about it.”

Armie had spent the rest of the trip to the park watching out for signs that Isabelle weren’t alright, feeling like the worst person ever.

To say that Timmy worried about Armie was an understatement. Suddenly, he could see the signs everywhere. The way Armie had tensed up when he stood in the kitchen beside Timmy, the sounds of an action movie from the TV reaching the kitchen. The way he never stood directly in front of the windows or doorways leading to the outside of the apartment. The way Timmy would wake up in the middle of the night, finding Armie awake too. Either because he’d had a nightmare or because he never went to sleep.

To Timmy’s relief, Armie didn’t deny any of it. To Timmy’s relief, Armie didn’t act out, didn’t yell or scream at anyone, wasn’t violent. Not yet, at least.

“When the holidays are over, we’re finding you a therapist,” Timmy had stated, one night, when he’d woken up, finding Armie already awake. It wasn’t up for discussion.

Armie had sighed, curled himself around Timmy’s body.

“Will you help me?” Armie had asked, sounding small.

“Of-course I will. I’ll be here every step of the way, baby,” Timmy had said, kissing Armie on the forehead. Then, he’d turned on his phone, pulling up the meditation app.

“I don’t know if this will be helpful to you, but it was to me when I had trouble sleeping. If you wake up in the middle of the night, you go to the SOS section, and choose the course that matches the reason why you’re not sleeping.” Taking the phone from Timmy, Armie had scanned the courses. Eventually, he’d chosen the one called “racing mind,” put the phone down, closed his eyes and fallen asleep in Timmy’s arms.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Marc had given Timmy the keys to their cabin. Had looked at him and said, “I think it’s best if you and Armie head out of the city tomorrow,” a calm and understanding expression on his face. Timmy had taken the keys, feeling relief flooding his system. He honestly hadn’t known what to do if Armie a panic attack in the middle of the chaos of explosions that the city would without a doubt become.

So, Armie and Timmy had spent New Year’s Eve in the mountains, the only sounds surrounding them being the wind in the trees and the crackling from the fireplace. They had dinner in a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the fireplace, fed each other desert, resulting in Armie fucking Timmy, hard and desperate, sweat, pleas and praises pouring out of their bodies. Then, Timmy had fucked Armie. Pushing into him slowly, he’d held Armie’s gaze, their hands intertwined until he’d thrusted into him as far as he could, spilling into Armie.

When midnight came around, they had put on warm clothes and sat outside under the starlit sky. A blanket covering their legs, champagne flutes in their hands, Timmy had leaned his head on Armie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry for keeping you away from your friends tonight,” Armie had said.

Sighing, Timmy had turned his head, kissed Armie on the cheek and said, “it’s alright. I’d rather be with you.”

When the clock on Armie’s phone showed exactly midnight, Timmy turned his head towards the sky, inviting Armie to place a hand on Timmy’s cheek, kissing him deep and slow.

When Armie pulled back, and Timmy opened his eyes, a shooting star flew across the sky.

Closing his eyes again, Timmy made his wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and really just being the best support a girl could ask for. It means the world! <3


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